


Compy

by GingerFloof



Series: Compy [3]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, F/F, Post-Half-Life 2: Episode Two, Robot/Human Relationships, Science Fiction, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerFloof/pseuds/GingerFloof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after the events of Portal 2, survivors of the Combine invasion retrieve stolen technology from the Borealis and use it to exile GLaDOS to an alternate universe. She takes on the alias 'Compy' and seeks out the one person who still believes in her: a girl named Melody. But can Compy learn to live as a normal human being? Can she put her past behind her and embrace God?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: Headcanons used in this chapter are from Tumblr user madamerenard via #GLaDOS headcanons. The human version of GLaDOS used here is roughly based off of a combination of Tumblr user Twinklepowderysnow’s android and human versions of GLaDOS. Go check out her art, it is phenomenal!**

**3/18/2015 UPDATE: A few small things about this chapter have been tweaked to fit Compy’s past with the prequel I FINALLY managed to churn out a year later...You may or may not notice them depending on if you are looking carefully. TL;DR basic story is the same, I just wrote a prequel to it.**

I was walking through University Mall after another appointment with my psychiatrist, affectionately known to my friends as “Dr.Tinycat” as per the icanhascheeseburger meme. It had been very gratifying to report to him that at long last, my medication was doing what it was supposed to do and my psychosis was eradicated. It had been a lifelong struggle to overcome “The Voices” in my head that had taken on lives of their own, usually stemming from video games or books I had read. Not any more. Now it was time to take charge of my life and face reality head on...  

I turned the corner that would take me toward the food court when a woman with white hair cut in a stylish bob with a shade of lipstick bordering on black nearly crashed into me. She wore heels, shades, slacks, and a peacoat. Apologising courteously, I smiled and ducked out of the way when the woman suddenly clutched at my arm in a panic.

My calm demeanor was shaken a bit. “Can I help you?” I asked, eyeing the woman nervously. To tell the truth, she looked uncommonly like...but that was ridiculous.

“Yes...where are you going?”

“To the transit station. Do you need help finding a bus?”

“Yes. Can I walk with you there? I feel a bit...faint.”

I was never one to say no to a pretty lady, so I offered her my arm and the woman graciously accepted, taking off her shades to reveal a shockingly pale face and crystalline blue eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re shaking and you look awfully pale,” I observed.

“I just had a shock, that’s all. I think I know where I need to go now. But first, could you tell me your name?”

“I’m Melody.”

The woman seemed to relax at this. She smiled for the first time. “Melody...It’s a lovely name. You can call me Compy.”

I nearly went into cardiac arrest right there in the parking lot. Suddenly I was the one clutching at the woman’s arm in panic. “Come again?”

“Compy.”

“Do…do I know you?”

“We’ve known each other for about...oh...two and a half years now. This is the first time we’ve met in person, though. Cara Mia, are you alright?” Compy’s tone changed to one of tender concern as I dropped to my haunches on a median in the parking lot covered with grass.

“Okay, where are the cameras? Who set me up? This isn’t funny anymore,” I declared, covering my face with shaking hands as I struggled to suppress tears.

“No one, love. Look, I’ll prove it to you.” Compy rolled back the sleeve of her peacoat, and then peeled back a layer of silicone skin to reveal a metal panel stamped with the Aperture logo. Having removed that, she revealed a layer of circuits, servos, wires, and tiny lights. “Go on, touch it. See for yourself.”

I delicately brushed my fingers over the androids inner workings in wonder. “GL- GLaDOS?” I stammered.

The construct silently nodded.

Sobbing unrestrainedly now, we  latched onto each other in a death grip.

~~~~~~

After a bus ride that was too short for both of us,  I had to ask the question that was bothering me. “How?”

Compy sighed. “The resistance.”

“They retrieved the Borealis?”

“No. I retrieved the backup device.”

“There was a _backup device?!”_

Compy sighed again. “It was very difficult to recall. I redacted so many things from my memory banks when I was...not well. Things that triggered me. Made me angry or hurt. Including anything to do with Cave or Black Mesa.”  
  


“In any case,” she continued, “It self-destructed after it was used.”

“To send you here?”

“Yes.”

  
“But...why leave the Resistance?”  
  
“Chell is more than capable of handling herself out there. Without my testing initiative, what am I to do? Sit and wait in my facility until the Combine come to take me and bend my technology to their own ends? No. I will _never_ be anyone elses slave again, _ever_.”

“I left the facility itself in the hands of the Resistance. They can decide how to use its resources to their benefit. There is nothing left for me there.” She hung her head.

“But that facility is your home! It’s your life! It’s...it’s _you!_ ” I blurted.  
  
Compy turned on me. “Do you really think I want to spend the rest of my miserable existence on a doomed planet negotiating with humans who resent me with every fiber of their beings? Do you? _Do you?!”_ she screeched. As my jaw dangled somewhere around my ankles, she added, “They were happy to get rid of me…”

I had never felt so terrible for someone in my entire life. GLaDOS, Queen of Aperture, had been dethroned at last. Not by a moron or a mute, but by something I had done. I had taken away her testing initiative in a bid to keep her from going insane and in the end, it had landed her here, on this planet, in this city, on this sidewalk, in this utterly weak and pathetic android form.

I gingerly put an arm around her shaking shoulders and whispered, “Let’s get you home.”

~~~~~~

We stood on my doorstep. This time it was Compy’s turn to ask, “How?”

“Have a little faith,” I encouraged.

I was living with my parents in the upstairs of my grandmothers house. They’d only recently come to terms with my same-sex attraction, and that was only because I’d come to terms with my religion. Which meant, in short, no girlfriends.

Any sane person would have asked how I was going to pull this off. But not just any sane person had delt with my family.

“Mom? Dad? I brought a guest home for dinner…”  
  
“I’m in the living room!” came the distant shout. Mom was recovering from a chest cold and was currently ensconced in one of the recliners in front of the TV. Compy gave a visible start as she noticed the tiny lineolated parakeet snuggled under my mothers chin. “A bird…” she muttered. “Of course, you mentioned you had a bird…”

“She’s tiny and harmless,” I dismissed the bird, hoping to move on to more pressing matters. “Mom, this is Compy, an old friend of mine. Can she stay over for dinner?”

“I’ve never heard you mention her before…” Mom seemed sceptical. “How do you know each other?”

“It’s a very long story, and I’d rather have dad here when we explain it all to you.”

Mom remained quizzical, but allowed Compy to eat with us.

Not much was said during the meal. I had lost my appetite to nerves and excitement, and Compy didn’t really need to eat except as a guise to maintain a human appearance. Finally, it was just the four of us in the living room. The bird was locked in her cage, the blinds closed, the TV turned off. My parents attention was mine.

I forced the words past a leaden tongue. “Mom, dad… this is GLaDOS.”

“You mean her voice actor?” Mom asked.  
  


I shook my head. “No, I mean...I mean the robot. The computer.”

Dad looked at me hard. “The one in that picture in your bedroom? The one Rose drew?”

“Yes.”

“She looks like a person to me.”

Compy again rolled up her sleeve, removed the panel, and exposed her robotic innards for the entire room to gape at. There was silence for a full minute.

“What-?”

“How-?”

Compy held up her hand for silence.

“I’m supposed to be a villain from a video game, right?”

We all nodded dumbly.

“It’s not true. You’ve told your daughter to be very careful with labels. She is not a lesbian, and I am not a villain.”  
  


“I sprung from the consciousness of a woman named Caroline. Her mind was downloaded into a computer. I’d prefer not to go into the details of the process except to say that it was extremely painful and eventually drove her, or what eventually was born as me, insane. From that moment on, she, or I, or whomever we were, blamed the scientists in charge of the project and attempted to kill them.”  
  
“They tried everything to make me behave. Different protocols, in the forms of personality cores, were attached to me. All of them were corrupt and only served to torment me further. I eventually lashed out and ended up killing the entire staff off. At the time I didn’t regret it, though I do now.”  
  
“My job at the facility was run tests on the subjects there. The very first one I tested after killing off the scientists escaped and destroyed me, only to return years later and reactivate me. She mistakenly believed that putting another personality core in my place would gain her her freedom. It didn’t. Instead it nearly destroyed the facility.”

“We had to join forces to stop him, and in the end she saved my life, and I hers. I decided to give her what she wanted so desperately: her freedom. What she didn’t know was that outside the facility, an alien race called the Combine had taken over Earth and was slowly decimating the population.”

“With the facility empty and Chell gone, over time, I slowly started to go corrupt from sheer boredom and loneliness. It was at this point your daughter intervened.”

“I’m not sure I really did anything…” I admitted. “I thought I was hallucinating. It’s like in Rose’s picture. I took out the bad stuff and put in good.”

“Laymen’s terms for taking out the testing initiative,” explained Compy. “Without the corrupt cores or the drive to test everything or everyone within the facility, I had a new purpose: to help the human resistance against the Combine forces. Your daughter was the only one who believed in me.”  
  
“Again, I thought I was hallucinating,” I held up my hands in a placating gesture.

“I built an android body to better relate with the humans, but they couldn’t forgive or forget what I’d done in the past that easily. In the end, I chose to come here using the same technology that the Combine used to come to their world.”

I’d never heard such deafening silence. Then my dad said the last thing I wanted to hear:

“And what if you turn out to be just as big of a threat to us?”  
  
 _“Dad!!_ ” I cried

Compy stripped off her coat and began to unbutton the blouse underneath. My parents gasped in shock but there was really nothing to see. She was like a Barbie Doll underneath, just smoothly moulded contours, with no defining anatomic characteristics. All the same, it set my heart pounding. This time, she pulled back a section of skin right over her chest cavity, opened a panel there, and pointed to a glowing yellow orb.

“That is my personality core. If I do anything untoward, unstable, destructive, or otherwise threatening you have my permission to take it out and decommission it. Are we clear?”

Recalling just how difficult it was to destroy Aperture technology, I wasn’t sure how much of this was a bluff. Then I remembered what Compy had said about having nothing left back at the facility, and I realized that for once in her life the AI was not playing games.

My dad nodded dumbly.

Compy composedly buttoned the blouse back up and perched on the loveseat next to me. “I didn’t come here to make threats,” she intoned. “I came to the one person I knew of who would help me.”  
  
“Now, down to business. I used to be called GLaDOS, or the Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operated System. Now I call myself Compy, short for computer and companion. I understand your daughter is in need of both. I also understand she has very specific religious standards, and I will not, and in fact cannot participate in homosexual behavior. I lack both the body parts and the programming. Feel free to have anyone you wish examine me for both.”

“Your daughter’s main concern has been my well-being up until her medication robbed her of that function. I intend to look after her well-being until my functions are robbed of me as well. This is all I am asking.”

Both my parents seemed either to be taking this remarkably well or to be in shock.

“May we go to bed?” I finally asked.

Mom nodded assent, and I trailed off down the hallway toward my room.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: Headcanons used in this chapter are courtesy of Tumblr user DeepChrome via  chat sessions on AIM, and Tumblr user conquerwourm under #still jeff and edi. The picture described in this chapter can be found in Mewitti’s DeviantArt gallery. Go check her out, her art is spectacular!**

During the fitful hours between sleeping and wakefulness, I tried and failed not to listen to the conversation going on in my parents room.

  
  
“...skew her perceptions of reality…”

  
  
“...What’s to prevent her from having feelings for that machine?”

“...How does this fit in with the gospel?”

“...Could this be a blessing in disguise?”

“...How do we explain this to mom?”  
  


“...move out as soon as possible…”

I tossed and turned, groping under my pillow for the earplugs I kept there. Compy, who had been sitting eerily still and quiet at my desk, dropped to her knees beside the bed and put her hand over mine. “Having trouble sleeping?”

I nodded.

Quickly as thought, she was slipping between the sheets next to me.  
  


 

_“Hey-!_ ” I hissed.

She shushed me.

“I thought you were incapable of carrying on a homosexual relationship,” I grumbled, furious and aroused at the same time.

“I am,” she assured me. “What I’m doing is helping you get your rest. Now if you’ll kindly quit protesting and turn your pathetic human hearing organs this way...yes, like that…”

A few moments later I was nestled against a warm and softly whirring AI as she hummed the strains of _Cara Mia_ in my ear.

~~~~~~

I remembered nothing more until my alarm rang at precisely 8:30 the following morning. Compy was sitting in the chair by my desk, apparently booting up her systems for the day.

"You weren't a dream..." I vocalized blearily, trying to wrap my mind around the concept.

“How observant of you. Are you usually this perceptive this early in the morning?” Compy quipped.

“I should have tried to reduce your snarkiness while I was modifying you…” I moaned.

“Are you turning off that alarm or not?”

  
  
The alarm subsequently silenced, I plopped back down on the edge of my bed to stare at the apparition from my most private fantasies.

“Is that the picture your dad mentioned?” Compy asked, pointing over my shoulder at the wall behind the bed.

“Oh, yeah.” I turned my head to look at the picture. When the buzzer sounds, stare at the art, I recalled the line from the game. I’d cried for an hour straight when I’d opened my present from Rose on Christmas morning to find the glossy, custom-drawn print inside.

Rose was my closest friend and privy to all my secrets. Sometimes I swore she knew me better than I knew myself. We’d both been through our share of clinical depression and anxiety- two other reasons I went to see Dr. Tinycat each month- and had both saved each others lives from near suicides. The picture she’d drawn depicted Lucca Ashtear from the SNES hit Chrono Trigger reprogramming GLaDOS. “Taking out the bad stuff,” Rose had put it. I’d once cosplayed as Lucca at an anime convention, so the picture commemorated more than a simple headcanon. “It’s to remember those people who helped us ‘take out the bad stuff’ and reprogram us with the good things,” Rose had told me that evening when, still in tears, I had called her up on Skype to thank her for her gift.

Now the symbolism was turning to reality. I rested my eyes  on Compy. “She got the lines right,” was all she could think of to say. She swallowed hard and turned her gaze back to me.

I replied with something equally as profound. “Gotta feed the bird.”

~~~~~~

Compy eyed the bird apprehensively as she scuttled back and forth from one shoulder to the other in impatience waiting for me to thaw her mixed vegetables.

“Does she eat...any other garden-variety foods?”

  
  
“You mean potatoes.” I said it as a statement, not a question.

“Well, yes,” Compy said defensively.

I sighed and admitted, “She has a fondness for mashed potatoes- the instant ones, anyway. But I’ve never seen her get near a raw one.”

My mom strolled by and deposited a kiss on the anxious parakeets head. “Honey, when you’re done with that, could you call up Trevor? I’m going to take Compy here up on her offer of examination.”

Trevor was my favorite cousin and the reason I’d become friends with Rose. They’d dated during their freshmen year in college and he’d brought her to our house for Thanksgiving. We’d been bosom buddies ever since. Trevor had later gone on to major in IT and marry another student named Nikki, but our bonds with Rose remained strong.

Once the bird was gorging on fresh veggies, I called up Trevor, explained that I had a family emergency involving computers, and within fifteen minutes he was at the front door.

“So, where’s the computer you needed help with so badly?” he said, rubbing his long, delicate hands together.

“Right here,” I indicated Compy.

  
  
“Come again?”

 

“Trevor, meet GLaDOS.”

 

  
Once again, Compy was forced to display her innards. She flinched away when Trevor reached out eagerly to examine them.

  
  
“No touching,” I said firmly. “You have to remember any physical contact she’s had prior to this was only to run tests or strap cores on her.”

Trevor nodded gravely. “So, there are no problems with her hardware?”

  
  
“None whatsoever,” Compy gritted from between high-density ceramic teeth.

“What you are here for is strictly to examine her software for sexual protocols.”

“Wha-?”

  
  
I sighed. “My parents are afraid that we might… you know…”

  
  
“Ooooohhhh,” Trevor said. “Gotcha. Well that should be simple enough if she can interface with a computer.”

Compy reluctantly pulled a USB cable from her pocket. “Hook me up,” she instructed, parting the hair at the nape of her neck to reveal a port.

“Well?” I asked, peering over Trevor’s shoulder as Compy perched on a chair next to the family computer, which had been chosen for it’s processing capabilities versus my laptop.

“It’s no wonder she went homicidal, she runs on Windows,” joked Trevor. Catching Compy’s scathing look, he quickly apologized. “Sorry. In laymen’s terms, it’s like I’m hooked up to the largest external hard drive I’ve ever seen. There are several hundred terabytes of data on here...it would take forever to go through it all manually, but I can use some shortcuts.”

He rapidly typed a string of code into the computer, pressed enter, then paused to analyze the results. Compy began to look very nervous.

“‘Caroline?’” he questioned. “But I thought…”

“I lied,” Compy said brokenly. “I _can’t_ delete her. My systems would fail without her. Oh, believe me,” she continued, “I _tried_. I don’t want to remember when I was human. When I was weak. Pathetic. Vulnerable. But look at me now!” She laughed mockingly. “No one can tell the difference anyway.”

For a long while no one said anything. Then I knelt and took her hands in mine. “You are who you are, Compy. And the sooner you can learn to accept yourself, the sooner you will find peace.”

“Accept myself? I don’t even know who I am!” she scoffed.

“You are my companion. _I_ accept you. _I_ love you.” I hadn’t meant to say those last three words, but they were all she needed to hear.

  
  
_“Cara Mia_ …” she breathed, stroking my cheek.

~~~~~~

No sexual subsystems or protocols were found even under the most stringent examination. But there was no denying we had a relationship.

It’s a hard thing for most people to accept, and even I had trouble grasping it at first, but love doesn’t need to be about sex. In fact, some of the most enduring and sacred of bonds are built entirely without it.

Compy was accepted into the family circle. She’d been true to her word, and my parents were no strangers to people with unusual needs.

I would like to say that from that day on, no one questioned our commitment to each other, but that wasn’t entirely true. The most important thing was that we didn’t question it.

****  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: Headcanons in this chapter are courtesy of Tumblr user betterbemeta under #robots, #body shaming and also courtesy of the lovely Ellen Mclain herself.**

“Good morning, love.” Compy reached out from her usual seat by the desk to ruffle my hair and then silence the alarm.

I moaned happily. Today was the first day of the weekend, and hopefully we’d be able to secure an apartment- and a job for Compy.

Compy had, in the meantime, been spending every spare moment on my laptop-  usually during the night while I was asleep- working on a plausible resume. It was difficult since she had no references except for my family, and no identification to speak of. Job experience was not technically lacking, but she had no insurance policies or even a bank account. For now she would use mine, but sooner or later something would have to be done about it.

Now she dangled the printed document in front of my eyes. “How does it look?”

“I don’t have my contacts in yet,” I grumbled. “All I can tell is that it’s properly formatted.”

“Trevor said he had some ‘connections’ that could help me get a job in web development. I’ve been working on my portfolio.”

 

“Oh really?” I asked

  
  
“Yes. I’ve entirely reformatted your mother’s home business website for starters. She was delighted,” she informed me.  
  


 

I’d been meaning to do that myself for years, but I had no doubt that the website was in capable hands.

  
  
“I also did the same for your blog on Wordpress. You’re welcome,” Compy smirked.

“I’ll thank you after I’ve seen what you’ve done with it,” I growled in mock exasperation.

“And I took the liberty of designing a prototype site for your massage business.”

I sat up straighter. “I don’t even have my license yet!”

“Ah, but all you have to do is re-take the certification test.”

“I’m not even sure I can remember that far back. That was six years ago. Plus I was fired from my last job when my hallucinations started interfering.”

“Which is why you will be working for yourself from now on, just like your mother. Now get up, I can hear the bird’s stomach rumbling from here.”

~~~~~~

Once again, Compy backed away nervously as I prepared the bird’s morning repast.

“She’s completely harmless, Compy. She can’t even bite hard enough to draw blood, and it’s not as though you had any to lose. The most she could do to you is poop on you,” I coaxed.

“I don’t know...I guess it’s more of a psychological thing than anything else,” Compy admitted.

“If you’re going to live with me, you’re going to have to live with the bird,” I declared. “The poor thing is attached to me. Gave me a name and everything. She calls me,” and here I made a whistling approximation of the birds greeting sound.

The bird happily repeated it and then attempted to climb up my hair onto the top of my head.

I retrieved her and scolded, “What have I told you about my hair, young lady? That is not allowed.”

The bird chirped cheerfully in assent and then repeated the performance.

By then the vegetables were ready, so I simply took the tray, placed it in the cage, and the bird scurried down my face, along my arm, and to her breakfast, warbling exuberantly.

I could have sworn that I saw Compy giggling behind my back, but it must have been my imagination because when I turned around she was examining her fingernails.

~~~~~

“You’re taking her into the _shower?”_

This statement was not, surprisingly, about Compy, but about the bird.

“Yes, Compy. She loves to shower with me. It’s the one place she ever really lets loose and sings.” I said.

Compy raised an eyebrow.

“I’m serious. All she ever does outside of the shower is that happy little burbling and chirping you heard this morning.”

“This, I have to hear for myself,” declared Compy.

“You’re welcome to come in and listen,” I told her. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Going to massage therapy school had given me a unique perspective on the human body. I believed each one was unique and beautiful, a feat of master engineering created by the hands of God and that it was my duty as a therapist to maintain and care for them. It was _normal_ to have stretch marks. It was normal to have cellulite. It was normal to have birthmarks. It was normal to have scars. These were what made people individuals.

My own body was no exception, and it was without shame that I shed my clothing for massages, medical examinations, and sometimes simply to admire the architecture in the mirror, so to speak (usually for artistic reference).

So it was that I stepped into the bathroom with a bird and a robot, perched the bird on the shower curtain rod and proceeded to strip right then and there. Compy didn’t seem phased in the least.

“You realize,” I said at last, as I slung my towel over the shower curtain rod, “That it’s not standard procedure for humans to undress in front of each other unless there are...special circumstances?”

“That has always puzzled me,” admitted Compy. “When I called Chell fat, I was only trying to motivate her to test. I knew that she knew that she wasn’t fat. But isn’t the whole point of a body to have varying forms and functions? Why should every being be built to do the same tasks in the same manner? And why would you set your systems up such that some units cannot navigate it?”

“Why,” she continued, “Do most humans think their whole production series, including themselves, is defective?”

I was stunned. Crouching in the tub near the tap, I shook my head in wonderment. “I honestly don’t know. But that’s part of the reason why I became a massage therapist; to help them stop seeing themselves that way.”

“You made a good decision, _Cara Mia_.”

With the water flowing full force, the bird burst into squawking rapture.

“So you _do_ sing,” Compy observed.

“You know, if people are going to believe you’re human, you should get into the habit of showering every once in a while,” I told her.

Compy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. I could see her through the clear sections between the swans that decorated the shower curtain.

“You... _can_ shower, right?”

“I’ve never had to before.”

I nibbled a hangnail nervously. The solution was so obvious. But could my sex drive take it?

“I could...teach you…” I muttered at last.

“You would do that for me?” Compy sounded appropriately touched.

“Take off your clothes and get in. There’s still some hot water left.”

With some trepidation, she did. We stood facing each other. “What now?” she asked.

“Well, the first order of business is to get your hair wet. You’re a bit taller than me, so you’ll have to tilt the shower head up a bit...yeah, like that…”

Our lessons continued up until the bird decided it was high time she come down and see what all the excitement was about. There was a fluttering and then a tiny thud as her clipped wings failed to provide lift in the humid air and she hit the bottom of the tub.

“ _Bird_!” we cried simultaneously. Compy, however, was first to reach her. Scooping up the bedraggled creature in her hands, she stepped out of the shower and deposited her on the counter. “Poor baby,” Compy crooned, “You’re half drowned!”

I turned off the water and toweled myself off, peeping through the curtain to watch a stark-naked android coddle my parakeet, dabbing at her with a hand towel while the bird cheeped feebly.

“Use the hairdryer on the lowest setting, and keep sweet-talking her,” I suggested as I threw on my clothes and ran to get some millet seed, the bird’s favorite treat.

The bird happily accepted the millet from Compy  and held it in a miniscule foot while Compy trained the hair dryer on her, all the while praising her bravery.  At last she was her dry and fluffy self again.

Now it was the moment of truth. “Hold out your finger,” I instructed the now fully clothed Compy, “And tell her to ‘step up’.”

The bird complied, and then decided to play her trump card. Nibbling the end of Compy’s finger, she made an exaggerated, drawn-out smooching noise.

Compy was completely won over. The bird wouldn’t have left her side all day if it hadn’t been for that pesky job interview.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: As noted in reviews, the main question of this story is, indeed, whether GLaDOS can believe in God or not. It would make sense that she only has faith in Science, and thus I am using Iammemyself’s story Portal: Euphoria as official background for mine. I highly recommend that you read it if you would like a better explanation as to why GLaDOS is so strongly attached to Science.**

**Another point that has been brought up is that Compy does not act as much “in character” with GLaDOS as one would expect. This is because she is, in fact, a different character. Keep in mind that her testing initiative has been removed, she is free from the corrupted protocols of her chassis (outlined in unbadger’s Tumblr post “Long-ass Chassis Headcanon Ahoy!”) and that Melody (a human, who for most of GLaDOS’ life have done nothing but test, torment, and experiment on her) has 1) displayed no inclination, intent, desire or even thought of harming her, 2) treated her with respect, kindness, and as an equal instead of an object or enemy, 3) shown compassion and empathy for her situation and actions because of the situation. Over the course of the two and a half years stated in the first chapter, this is obviously going to change her personality and behavior, at least toward Melody.**

**I am attempting to write a backstory that recounts what happened over those two and a half years, but it will take a while to compile headcanons and memories and to just sit down and type the darned thing. This entire series is very involved and convoluted and I honestly wonder what I’m getting myself into sometimes, so bear with me.**

**3/17/15 UPDATE: And the backstory is complete! It’s titled "Initializing Connection.” It does involve a character from a different game but I have tried summarize as much of her backstory as I could so that Portal fans wouldn’t be confused. Again, it’s not necessary to read it to enjoy this story, it just sheds some light on Compy’s background.**

I continued working on that pesky hangnail all the way to the job interview. Dad had graciously offered to be our couffer for the day since neither of us possessed drivers licenses. Many people I’d met since moving to my grandmothers had wondered about my lack thereof, and I simply had to break it to them that psychosis and driving don’t mix. After all, who wants someone on the road that’s liable to hallucinate distracting and disturbing things at any given moment?

The android sitting next to me in the Chrysler Town and Country was no hallucination, however, and I was still having trouble wrapping my mind around the concept. Did that mean I’d really had psychosis in the first place? Or were they, as one patient I’d met in a psyche ward had claimed, latent psychic powers? I drew in a tiny gasp as the hangnail broke off and took a piece of skin with it. Whatever the answers to those questions were, they didn’t matter now. The pain was a clear reminder that I had to focus on the present situation.

“You only have one body; don’t damage it,” scolded Compy. “I can’t very well download you into another one.”

  
  
“Ah, but this body can repair itself,” I quipped. “All it needs is a little time.”

“You need to keep it in better condition,” Compy continued nitpicking. “Eat healthy. Excercise. Stay regular on your medications.”

My dad was nodding agreement in the front seat.

I could see where this was going. “I can take care of myself!” I defended.

“Says the 27-year-old still living with her parents. Admit it, you need help.”

“Yeah, me and everyone else on this planet. It’s called ‘interdependence.’ Ever heard of it?”

“It’s called ‘betrayal.’ Ever heard of that?” Compy growled.

“So you’re asking me to depend on you but you won’t depend on anyone else?” I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds a bit-”

  
  
“What? Narcissistic? Self-centered? Unfair?” Compy accused.

“No...more like you feel insecure.”

That silenced her.

“You know who you can always depend on?” I asked. Upon receiving no response I meekly offered my answer: “God.”

“God.” Compy spat out the word as though it tasted bitter. “Since when has he ever done anything for me? Moreover,” she continued, as we pulled into our parking space, “What evidence is there that he even exists?  I depend on facts and Science. They’re more reliable.”

With that, she stepped out of the vehicle and somehow managed to slam the automatic door.

Dad gave me a confused look in the rearview mirror. “Does she realize you go to church every Sunday?”

“Yes.”

  
  
“Does she realize church is tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Then dad said, “Honey...I don’t want to burst your bubble, but she may not be the best choice for a roommate. I can see some potential for conflict here.”

“Do you think anyone else is going to accept her, dad?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I just want you to be careful.”

“I will.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a tissue to dab away the tears that were threatening to emerge.

How, I wondered, could a person function without some sort of guiding force in their life? Was this one of the reasons GLaDOS had gone insane? Facts and science could not provide love or direction. They did not dictate right or wrong. But then again, there were plenty of moral atheists out there, so what did I know?

Time seemed to crawl by while Compy was in her job interview. Dad attempted to nap. For my part, I prayed. I prayed for strength to endure whatever came my way. I prayed for Compy to feel accepted and loved. I prayed for the two of us to find our place in life, wherever it was. A tap on my window snapped me out of my reverie. Compy was looking through the glass at me, her face mirroring my concern.

“How did it go?” I asked as I opened the door, only to be interrupted with “Why are you crying?”

I swiped irritably at the tell-tale moisture on my cheeks. “It’s nothing,” I lied.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? I offended you.” I opened my mouth to protest, only to be crushed in a death grip. “I’m so sorry…” Compy murmured apologetically into my hair.

  
  
“It’s all right,” I reassured her, my own voice somewhat muffled in the fabric of her peacoat. When she didn’t let go, I added, “Overprotective, much?”

  
  
She huffed and simply readjusted her grip so that she could put on her seat belt, not letting me move an inch. Upon catching my dad’s glance in the rearview mirror, she ordered, “Make yourself useful and get us home.”

Later in bed that night, I informed her, “That was probably not the best way to make a good impression on my dad.”

“I know,” she said simply. “It’s almost like I can’t help but make a bad impression on people.”

  
  
“What do you mean? Certainly you’ve seen the blogs on Tumblr that sing your praises by now.”

She snorted. “They’re deluded. Infatuated. Most of them, anyway...They forget that I killed off an entire facility full of humans. Humans like themselves. And then passive-aggressively shoved the only one who showed me any mercy right out of my life.”  
  


“And,” she continued, “Whether or not humans display mercy, I continue to shove them out. I don’t want to be hurt again. I think...I’ve forgotten how to trust anyone except you. Even my interviewer was not impressed. I honestly don’t think I got that job.”

She sighed, then declared, “I’m exhausted. I’m going to power down for the night.”

  
“Wait.” I wasn’t sure what prompted me to fold back the blankets next to me, but the heavens must have been smiling on me that day.

  
  
“Are you sure?” asked Compy tentatively.

  
  
“Yes. I think you need it.”  
  


She hesitantly slipped in next to me, and I put my arms around her. After a moment of silence, she said, “Thank you.”

 ****  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Compy didn’t power on the next morning when the alarm rang. I fumbled around in the dim light for a few minutes before extricating myself from the bed to silence the beeping, then shook her gently. It was eerie. She was hard and unyielding as a rock, and about as heavy. Due to her lack of breathing and pale skin, she resembled a corpse. I almost panicked until I looked at my calendar and saw what day it was: Sunday.  
  


“Figures,” I muttered under my breath. I pulled the blankets up over Compy’s inert form and then proceeded to feed the bird, alone. My parents had already departed for their church meetings. As a single young adult, I was expected to attend church with others of my age and status. I groused through my shower, which the bird utterly refused to participate in, sulked my way through a few of my friends Facebook statuses, and finally allowed myself to be dragged by my parents to my Single’s Ward meeting.

I had a love/hate relationship with my ward. I liked being with people my own age, who thus had similar interests, but I loathed every second spent talking about dating and relationships, mainly because I thought I would never have one due to my same-sex attraction. Now, as the people behind the pulpit droned on and on about the subjects of love and marriage and the upcoming Valentines dance, I caught myself doodling portraits of Compy in my sketchpad. Suddenly two and two added up and I found myself blushing with the heat of an inferno.

“Now scoot along to Sunday School,” the Bishop was saying into the microphone as I snapped back to reality, “And cuddle up to that special someone.” Giggles erupted throughout the chapel. I sweated nervously as I imagined what kind of looks I would receive for cuddling up to my special someone in Sunday School.

As it turned out, no one would be cuddling in Sunday School. The chairs were the hard folding metal kind- not suitable for snuggling of any sort. At least it kept me awake through the lesson and into Relief Society- the meeting held just for the women.

I sat down in the back row next to a girl with dark curly hair and glasses. She gave me a small nod and smile and said, “Are you new in the ward?”

  
  
I nodded. “I’m Melody.”

  
  
She grinned. “I’m Madeline. But everyone calls me Maddie.”

Class was starting, so I pulled out my sketchpad and began to doodle aimlessly again. I noticed Maddie watching me out of the corner of my eye and nearly put the sketchpad away when she leaned over to whisper, “That’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I replied. Then, impulsively I added. “It’s my roommate.”  
  


“What’s her name?” Maddie asked.

“Compy,” I told her. When she gave me a questioning look I threw in, “It’s a nickname. Her real name is-”  
  


I stopped myself just in time. I’d almost said “GLaDOS.” For a second my head swam at the absurdity of what I was doing. “I- I have to go,” I told Maddie and stood up , heading for the door.

**  
  
**

I strode out quickly, ignoring her questioning look, and headed straight to the drinking fountain. I took an extra anti-anxiety pill from my purse, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed it down with a hasty gulp of water. Then I went into the bathroom to calm down.  
  


Luckily no one was there. I headed for the very last stall and closed the door. Breathing heavily, I leaned against the wall and struggled to remain calm. Then I heard the last sound I wanted to hear at that moment.

“Melody? Are you in here?”

It was Maddie’s voice.

I sighed in defeat and opened the stall door. “Yeah,” I responded feebly.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

When I gave no reply, she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I nodded. “Can we do it at my place?”  
  


She nodded in return. “Do you need a ride?”

Compy was still dead to the world when we arrived. My parents told me that she hadn’t moved all day.

“This is about her, isn’t it?” Maddie asked as we took seats facing each other on the couch.

“No. Yes. I guess?” How could I tell someone I’d just met today? I dared to lift my eyes to meet Maddie’s. Her gaze was calm, level, and non-judgemental. It reminded me of Dr. Tinycat’s, except that her eyes also showed a look of...empathy?

I took courage from that look. “Compy is an old friend of mine. Long-distance. We’ve never actually met face-to-face until this week. And then she got in trouble and came to me for help. She has nowhere else to go and I…” I choked back a sob. “I’m barely dealing with things as they are already. This singles ward is so new and scary. So much bigger than my ward at home. I have so many health problems; I can’t even drive myself to church.”

Maddie nodded. “I know what that’s like. I have depression.”

Encouraged, I nodded, “Me too. And anxiety. And psychosis. And PTSD.” I gave a nervous laugh.

“PTSD? From what?” Maddie asked, and the backpedaled hastily, “I mean, only if you’re okay talking about that stuff.”

“Nonono, I’m fine.” I was in this deep, might as well go the whole way. “Multiple suicide attempts. And rape. I’m still temple-worthy though.”

In my religion temples were considered sacred places where one could commune with God. A person had to live high moral standards to be worthy to enter them, though.

“I’m not,” Maddie said softly. “My boyfriend and I...got a little too involved.”

“Oooohhh. I’m sorry,” I said. There was an awkward pause, then, I decided to add, “But who am I to judge? I was raped by a lesbian.”

“A _lesbian?_ No kidding?” Maddie asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I have same-sex attraction and I did some stupid things when I was in college.”

Maddie nodded. “Well, that makes two of us.”

We looked at each other a bit shyly for a moment, as though we had just barely realized we were telling our deepest secrets to a complete stranger. But then again, were we really strangers anymore?

“So, tell me about Compy,” prompted Maddie.

“Well, she’s living with me and my parents now, but we’re looking to move out.”

“And you’re parents are okay with this? I mean, with you two living together and…”

“She’s asexual.” I invented. “Besides, she respects my religious views too much to ever have sexual relations with me.”

“So she’s not a member?”

“No.”

“Do you…. _like_ her?”

“How do you mean?”

  
  
“I mean, did you two ever date? Is that how you met?”

“Not...exactly? I mean, she knows I’m attracted to her, but she can’t really reciprocate.”

“That must be hard.”

“Yeah…” I croaked, and turned away.

Sensing the conversation was now closed, Maddie stood up. “You hang in there, all right? Can I do anything for you? Do you need rides to church and stuff?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I smiled wanly, and gave Maddie a hug. “Also, thanks for talking with me.”

We exchanged cell phone numbers and she left. I went back to my room to check on Compy, to find her sitting by my desk.

“She seems...nice,” Compy observed.

“You were listening?”

“I kept my aural sensors on so I would know when you came home.”

“Oh.”

“Perhaps there are more trustworthy humans in this world than I previously estimated.”

I sat down on the bed and smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

It was Monday, I realized as my alarm went off that morning. And that meant the Single’s Ward Valentine’s Dance was this week. As I reached for my cell phone to silence the alarm, I noticed a text message from Maddie:  
  
Hey Mel :)

Do you and Compy want to come to the dance this week?

Me and David could give you a ride  
If not, it’s totally okay :3

Compy noticed me scanning the phone. “What is it?” she asked.

“Text from Maddie. She wants to know if we want to go to the dance this week.”

“Dance?”

I facepalmed. “The ward’s Valentine’s Dance. I didn’t really want to go because I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t have a date…”

“I can keep all potential male suitors away from you, if you’d like,” Compy bared her teeth in a fierce grin.

I slapped her arm playfully. “I’ll take that bet. But…” I eyed her peacoat and slacks, now wrinkled and creased from several days worth of wear. “You’ll need a dress. I know just who to call for this…”

My sister, June, had always been the family’s “fashion police” and was thrilled to have an excuse to go shopping. Mom was just happy that I was finally coming out of my shell and into the social world, so she gladly donated her credit card to the cause, limiting us to $200. The three of us hit the town the next afternoon, June chattering away as we sped down the streets toward the mall.

“So where did you say you were from again, Compy?”

“Michigan,” Compy delicately pushed aside a package of cookies that was occupying the floorspace of the backseat. My sister’s car had never been the cleanest since she’d had children.

“Cool! That’s where our mom’s from. So how’d you wind up here?”

“I was...sent away…”

“It’s a delicate subject,” I interrupted.

“Gotcha.” June swerved around a corner with reckless abandon, causing me to practically fall into Compy’s lap. Once I had recovered, she hit the brakes and announced, “We’re here!”

And we were, right back where it all began, at University Mall.

“So where do you want to go first?” asked June, reaching for the credit card.

I snatched it away and put it in my wallet. “Let’s start at the Dressbarn.”

It turned out that Compy looked lovely in pastels, striking in black, and...not quite right in jeans. We made a consecutive agreement to stick to slacks and ban tees. Compy was just too refined for casualwear.

Jewelry turned out to be a whole other adventure. As it turned out, Compy didn’t have piercings, and June was determined to rectify that. We selected a pair of faux-diamond studs and praised Compy when she didn’t even flinch during the insertion. I caught her looking at herself with almost childlike wonder in the mirror for nearly a full minute afterward.

Fully transformed, Compy strode out of the mall laden with bags of “sweet loot.” June made her show of each and every item to my mom once we were back at the house.

“Are you sure you didn’t go over the limit?” Mom asked when we were through.

“I miiiight owe you $20,” I confessed. Then, checking the time, I hugged June goodbye, thanking her profusely, and ushered Compy into the bathroom for final preparations.

As I fussed over minute details like the way my hair was parted, I couldn’t help noticing Compy growing more withdrawn. “You look fabulous,” I assured her as I applied mascara.

“It’s not that. I’m not sure how well I’ll relate to the people at the dance.”

“The whole ‘bad impressions’ thing?”

“Yes, as you so succinctly put it.”

“Think of it as a test. We’re seeing how well humans can relate to a robot. Measure their reactions. Adjust yours accordingly.”

Compy looked unconvinced, but there was no backing out. The doorbell was ringing. I answered it to find Maddie and a young man I assumed was her boyfriend, David, standing on the front step. “You look just as beautiful as she draws you,” Maddie complimented Compy. Compy raised an eyebrow and I blushed. “I was doodling in church,” I offered by way of explanation.

David laughed and led the three of us to the car, insisting on opening the door for each of us. It wasn’t something Compy or I were used to, and he jokingly acted offended when we attempted to open the doors ourselves.

I began picking at my nails again on the way to the church, but Compy grabbed my hands and forced them to hold still. Maddie noted the activity in the rearview mirror with a grin. I flushed and she just grinned wider.

Upon arriving at the church, we found the cultural hall, a big open room designed for hosting activities, decked out in pink and red streamers and balloons. White Christmas lights added to the ambience. I swallowed nervously and headed directly for the table where punch and cookies were being served. I had no intention of actually dancing if I could help it. Compy followed on my heels.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Maddie asked.

“I was...thirsty?” I ad-libbed.

“This is a _dance._ You’re supposed to dance.”

“I don’t know anybody.”

“You know _her_ ,” Maddie pointed to Compy. “And you know me and David.”

I sputtered incoherently but Maddie was already pulling me to the floor. “Come on!” she laughed.

Maddie waved her hands in the air and wiggled her hips back and forth. “Nuthin’ to it.” When I awkwardly copied her movements, she said, “Nobody else knows what they’re doing either. Just look around.”

It was true. As I scanned the crowd, most people were awkwardly shuffling around in circles or simply standing around talking. Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad.

I gave a “What the heck” shrug in Compy’s direction, then mimicked a hula dancer. David guffawed and followed suite. Soon all four of us were flailing around the dance floor like broken marionettes.

It occurred to me that this was the first time I’d ever seen GLaDOS having fun for the sake of pure enjoyment. Perhaps, I thought, taking away that testing initiative hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. After all, who would have thought she’d be here, in this room tonight, laughing and doing a hopelessly ridiculous parody of “Oppan Gangan Style?”

Then the slow song hit. Still smiling and laughing, I began to retreat toward the dessert table, but Maddie scolded, “You can’t back out now!”

“But what if someone-”

“And what if they don’t?” Maddie nudged me toward Compy. “Just shuffle around in circles and giggle like the whole thing is a joke.”

But I wasn’t giggling. I felt like a frightened deer standing in the middle of the road, with a neon sign saying “GAY” flashing over my head. As I placed my hands on Compy’s shoulders, I had a hard time mustering enough spit to swallow.

“So, I’ve been gauging the reactions of the humans around me,” Compy informed me as I began to shuffle awkwardly. “This particular one seems to be in some distress.” She looked me in the eye, daring me to contradict her. I looked down, defeated.

“Relax, _Cara Mia_. No one’s even looking at us. Except for Maddie and David,” she amended as Maddie flashed a thumbs-up over David’s shoulder at us.

“For the record, I haven’t had this much fun since...well...I can’t remember ever really just having _fun_ before. Testing euphoria, yes, but fun...not so much. Thank you.”

The song was mercifully short, and Compy escorted me off the dance floor to the treat-laden table. Maddie and David met us there. “That was wonderful! Look at you go!” Maddie cheered.

“Yes, look at the pair of us, gliding around the dance floor. Like swans. Piloting a steamboat.” Compy intoned whimsically.

“Thinking with portals?” asked Maddie as several heads turned our way.

“THE CAKE IS A LIE!” declared another person from across the table.

“GLaDOS is my ringtone…” offered another girl shyly as she poured a cupful of punch.

“If you love her so much then why don’t you marry her?” snarked Compy, with the barest hint of autotune in her voice, and there were adoring gasps and shrieks from the surrounding onlookers.

“HOW do you do that?!”

“You sound _just like her!_ ”

“Haha, that’s awesome!”

Needless to say, the evening ended well, and Compy was virtually begged to come to the next activity and do more GLaDOS impressions.

“You have a fanclub,” I noted as we got ready for bed that night.

“ _We_ have _friends_ ,” she corrected me with a wink.

“So are you coming to the next activity?”  
  


 

“I’ll think about it.” She planted a kiss on my forehead. “Happy Valentines Day.”


	7. Chapter 7

As February progressed toward March, Compy started to become a regular feature at singles ward activities. She was wildly popular with the Portal fans, but refused to leave my side for an instant, as though unsure her status granted her authorization to simply “hang out” with what she deemed to be “normal humans.” She also flatly refused to come to church, despite many invitations to do so.

“I’m not interested,” she would reply, and then swiftly change the topic.

Despite my assurances that Mormons didn’t even use curse words, let alone murder AI’s, something held her back. “I’m not like you,” she insisted one afternoon as she, Maddie and I perched on chairs nibbling assorted munchies.

“I see two eyes, a nose, a mouth… last time I checked, I had all those things, too,” Maddie teased.

“It’s more than just superficial things,” Compy insisted, chewing a pretzel. “I don’t think I even qualify as the same species sometimes.”

“You’re a person. Same as all of us.” I asserted between bites.

“Sometimes I wonder…” Compy rolled her eyes with veiled sarcasm.

“Would you like to know all the answers?” I asked.

“Is that even possible?” Compy raised an eyebrow.

“Not for us. But for Heavenly Father. And He’s willing to share them.”

Compy said nothing,  just reached for more dip, blatantly ignoring me.

“It can be very reassuring to have that knowledge on your side,” I continued.

“Then _why_ ,” Compy demanded forcefully, “hasn’t he shared it with me?”

“Have you asked?”

“What?” Compy was clearly stymied.

“Have you asked Him for it?”

“I…”

“It can’t hurt to try. Think of it as...a _test_.” I smiled mischievously.

 

Compy’s eyes narrowed.  “And if the results come back negative?”

“What if they don’t?” asked Maddie, with a grin of her own.

“‘Science isn’t about ‘why,’ it’s about ‘why not,’” I declared with finality.

“Fine,” Compy growled. “But we do this on my own terms.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Operation ‘Ask and Ye Shall Receive’ is a go.”

When Maddie dropped us off at the house that evening, I could tell something was off. Mom paced the kitchen floor anxiously “hugging” the Bird under her chin while dad spoke clearly and distinctly into the phone in the other room, as though striving to make certain every word got through.

“Everything about today seemed...different…” he was saying. “I couldn’t remember details. No. Not at all. Even the e-mails in my outbox looked unfamiliar…”

“What’s wrong?” I asked mom.

“Dad’s having a hard time remembering what he did at work today. He’d send e-mails or give briefings and not have any recollection of it afterward. It all sounds like some bizarre sci-fi story…” Her eyes roved over Compy briefly, then she shook her head, dismissing the idea. “He’s checking with  the hospital to see if he should go in. This looks almost like the time your grandma Smith had a stroke.”

If my jaw had not been firmly attached to my skull it would have hit the floor. This was unprecedented. My dad was a pillar of health, solid and sound. He rarely even got colds, let alone a stroke! And I knew what strokes meant. Within weeks of her stroke, my grandma Smith had lost her cognition, memories, and then her will to live. After that, we lost her.

My dad put down the phone. “They say I should go to the ER right away.”

Mom nodded. “I’ll drive you.” Handing the Bird to me, she said, “Take care of Grandma.”

Of course. Grandma Constance would be worried sick about her baby boy. But how could I help her when I was falling to pieces myself?

There was no time to think about it. In a rush of rustling jackets and jingling keys, mom and dad were out the front door. It was only then that I realized I was shaking.

Compy’s grip on my arm steadied me. “ _Cara Mia…?_ ”

“I’ll be fine.” I swallowed hard. “Let’s check on grandma.”

**  
  
**

Downstairs, grandma Constance was in tears. “My boy,” she kept saying, “My baby boy…”

“He’ll be fine, grandma.” I asserted.

Compy finally caught grandma’s  eye.  ”Now, who were you again, young lady?” grandma asked her.

“I’m Compy,” Compy replied warily, as though addressing a certain mute test subject armed with a portal gun.

“Yes, I remember now. You live upstairs, with my son and daughter-in-law. How do you know them, again?”

“I’m Melody’s friend. They’re letting me stay with them temporarily.”

“And how are they treating you?”

“Like...like family,” Compy choked out. Was she...crying? “They’ve been very kind. Kinder than I deserve.”  
  


There was a knock on the door, and I rushed to answer it. June tumbled in, hair disheveled, but her outfit still color-coordinated. “I came as soon as I heard,” she gasped. “Is grandma all right?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the two distraught women in the living room. “See for yourself.”

June marched in, took grandma by the hand, and said, “Let’s have a prayer.”

Grandma Constance nodded. “Compy, will you say it?”

Everyone in the room was stunned, except for grandma, who remained blissfully oblivious. “It’s just a test,” I whispered to Compy, and knelt on the rug, gently pulling her down next to me.

Compy knelt. For a moment she was lost in thought, then she closed her eyes, and haltingly, began.

“Dear God, if you can hear me...Mr. Constance is in the hospital right now. He’s helped me look for a job, gave me money to buy new clothes, and never once questioned me after I told him about...about where I came from. I know I’m not a very...good person, God, but I’m trying to do my best here, so if you care about Melody or her dad at all, please bring him back to us with all his mental capabilities intact. Amen.”

I flung myself at Compy after that “Amen” and latched on to her like a leech. Even though it had not been eloquent, the prayer had been heartfelt, and I knew my dad couldn’t be in more capable hands at that moment. “Thank you” seemed like such inadequate words to describe what I felt, but they were the best I could manage between sobs.

June stayed downstairs with grandma while I headed upstairs with Compy. As I headed into my room, my phone buzzed with a text message alert from Mom. “MRI results in two hours” it said, along with a picture of my dad in a hospital gown wearing a comically embarrassed expression.

“Two hours until my test results come in,” Compy joked.

“What if they come back negative?” I asked, biting my lower lip and failing to prevent more tears from escaping.

“What if they don’t?” she answered. Not waiting for a reply, she pulled me down onto the bed, stating, “You need your rest.”

I curled up next to her, and she drew the blankets up around me. Softly stroking my hair she whispered, “Whatever happens, I’ll stay with you.”

When I next achieved consciousness, Compy was dangling papers in front of my nose. “Is this a new favorite pastime of  yours?” I griped. “I’ve told you before, I don’t sleep with my contacts in.”

“They’re release forms,” declared Compy. “Your dad has a clean bill of health. “

_“Wha-?!”_ I shrieked

“Shhh, your parents are still asleep. They had a long night. What your dad experienced was Transient Global Amnesia. It’s very rare and almost never reoccurs. He’ll feel disoriented for a couple of days, but then he should be able to go back to work as usual.”

“Compy, I…” I broke down in tears again, relief flooding my system.

“Is this a new favorite pastime of yours?” Compy joked, brushing away a tear.

“What about your test results?” I asked breathlessly.

“I think...I may need to repeat this test. Multiple times.”

 **  
**I sent God a little “test” of my own expressing my gratitude right then and there.


	8. Chapter 8

As expected, Compy received an e-mail later on during the week informing her that another candidate had been selected for the web developer job. She didn’t seem unduly upset about it though, as she was busy running “tests” on the subject of religion.

“Are you doing this because you’re bored or because you really want to know if it works?” I asked the following Sunday when she declined my offer to come to church.

“A bit of both, I suppose,” she acquiesced.  “You have to admit, anyone would be curious after what happened with your dad.”

“Then ponder this: Alma chapter 32  basically invites anyone who even _wants_ to believe, but isn’t sure yet, to experiment and see what results they get.”

She pursed her lips. “Is this from the infamous ‘Book of Mormon’ your religion is named after?”

I lobbed the copy sitting on my desk at her and she caught it in mid-flight. “Does the largest collection of information ever created really need to ask _me_ that?” I quipped.

“I suppose I could find out for myself,” she smirked, and opened the volume to the introduction page.

“Is Compy a no-show today?” asked Maddie as I slid into the backseat of her car.

“Yeah, but I think I convinced her to do a bit of light reading…”

“First prayer, then scripture study. Will miracles never cease?” mused Maddie.

“Just as long as my dad doesn’t get brain damage, I’m all for the miracles continuing,” I joked.

“Speaking of miracles, do you have plans for Conference?” Maddie asked.

I cringed mentally. The Semi-Annual General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was held once every six months in April and October. It was basically an eight-hour TV broadcast featuring sermons from the General Authorities of the Church. It helped that those eight hours were spaced out in two hour segments over two days, but even for someone who had grown up immersed in the Mormon culture, the whole thing could be pretty overwhelming. I had no idea what Compy would make of it.

“Assuming Compy doesn’t short-circuit, I’m just going to watch it at home with my family. Why do you ask?”

“This could be your chance. If she can survive sitting through Conference, church should be a piece of cake!” Maddie asserted.

 

I groaned. “Maddie, I’m not even sure she’ll want to watch it. And I’m not going to make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Maddie nodded. “Look,  I’m glad you two respect each others right to believe what you want. It’s not something many people do. I just worry that if she doesn’t at least try to understand what you believe in, you two are going to end up at odds with each other.”

I exhaled. “I think she is trying to understand. She may never accept it, but at least she’ll get where I’m coming from.”

Maddie watched me doodle portraits of Compy all through church, then gently prodded me toward the bishops office before we left. “I think you should at least make an appointment,” she suggested. “He’d probably have some suggestions about what to do.”

Bishop appointments did not serve the same purpose as a traditional Catholic confessional, at least not in the general sense. Yes, a bishop was there to help determine where you stood with God and you could confess your sins to him if need be, but mostly he was there to serve as a spiritual advisor. And at that moment, I needed advice.

To my surprise, the door to his office swung wide open as I approached. I half expected him to greet me by saying “I’ve been expecting you,” but instead he simply reached out and shook my hand, asking, “It’s Melody, right? You’re relatively new to the ward. I’m glad to see Maddie’s been taking care of you.” He smiled with genuine warmth.

“Y-yes,” I managed. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. Have a seat.”

The door to the office closed softly behind me as he took his place behind his desk. “How can I help you?” the bishop asked.

“I hardly know where to begin…” I said.

“Take your time,” he instructed.

“I suppose I’m here because of Compy,” I started after a moment of contemplating my drawings.

“I’ve seen her at a few ward activities. She seems like a nice girl. Are you two close?”

“I…I love her.”

I’m not sure what prompted me to make that drastic of a confession. It seemed my conscience was going into hyperdrive. The bishop remained unphased, however, as I continued with my explanation.

“I have same-sex attraction. But I haven’t acted on it. In fact, she’s asexual and both of us respect the other too much to ever have sexual relations with the other. She understands my religious views although she doesn’t share them.”

“In fact,” I continued, still uncertain what was prompting my candidness, “We’ve both been through traumatic experiences in our past that...have helped us to bond. I was raped and she was...abused in other ways. I know because of this that she would never, ever harm me or even make advances without my consent. I trust her completely and I just...I wish she could learn to trust Heavenly Father the same way too. Because she really needs someone besides just me to lean on.”  By now I was sobbing. It seemed all I had done this past week was cry sporadically.

“It seems to me,” said the bishop slowly, “That you’re trying to take on too much responsibility at once. So far, you’ve been choosing to do good things, despite what has happened to you or your friend. You need to remember,” he said, looking me in the eye, “not to blame yourself for the things you didn’t choose.”

“There are things we can affect with our power to choose, and others we cannot. You need to be able to distinguish between them, and not find fault with yourself when you can’t change things.”

“You can’t change your same-sex attraction. You can’t force Compy to change the way she thinks. But you can choose what you do about it. And you can stop blaming yourself for the things that aren’t your fault.”

I nodded, wiping away tears of relief now.

“You come back and see me whenever you need to, alright?” The bishop gave me the same warm smile and escorted me out of the office.

Upon arriving home, I found Compy seated at my desk deliberately turning the last pages of the Book of Mormon over. “The End,” she proclaimed with satisfaction.

“You read the entire thing in _three hours??”_ I exclaimed in disbelief.

“I can compile information in a surprisingly short amount of time,” she said with no small amount of pride. “I believe I’m more than ready for this ‘General Conference’ of yours now.”

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” I said, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s so much more than just…”

“Just what? Just doctrines? I can memorize and compile doctrine in nanoseconds.”

“But can you understand it?”

“What is there to understand?”

I groaned, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. How did you explain abstract concepts like faith and belief to a supercomputer?

“Can you...can you…” I fought to articulate. “Can you take it and actually use it in your life?”

“Apply it?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I want to?”

I kneaded my forehead. “Haven’t you ever had questions? About who you are? Why you’re here? What your purpose is?”

Compy frowned and set down the Book of Mormon. “Yes…” she said reluctantly. “But I thought the answers to that were perfectly clear. I was the Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operated System of Aperture Science Laboratories. I am here because I was constructed by a team of engineers. My purpose was to run the facility. Now...I’m not so sure.”

“Okay. So, if you really want the answers, you have to dig a bit deeper. Apply the doctrines. Do some testing.”

“But it all seems so illogical…”

“Do you really want this or not?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

I knelt down next to the bed and patted the floor beside me. “When you can’t stand life, get on your knees. Come on, we’ll do it together. I’ll teach you.”

“I know perfectly well how to give a prayer,” she scoffed, dropping to the floor next to me.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. First you address God, then you-”

“Okay, you give it then if you’re so smart,” I told her

“Dear God…” Compy began, faltered, then started again. “Dear God…”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Tell him about your day,” I suggested. “Then ask for help with your problems.”

“You think he cares?” She scoffed.

“I know he does. He cared enough to listen when you asked about my dad.”

“Fine. Dear God, I read the Book of Mormon for the first time today, and memorized it. But Melody says memorization isn’t enough. She says I have to apply these things to know about…” Compy choked off. “I want to know who I am. Melody says I am her companion and that is enough for her, but I need to know where I fit in the cosmos, the universe, in Science. Surely I’m more than just a glorified computer/human hybrid? Or am I neither? I hate not knowing. If you have answers, I need them.”

She sat there for a while, head bowed, eyes closed, just breathing.

“Amen,” I whispered, closing the prayer for both of us.


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N.: The song used in this chapter is “You’re Not Alone” by Michael McLean.**

Saturday morning came all too quickly, and despite Compy's assurances that she knew both the Bible and Book of Mormon inside and out, I was still worried that she wouldn't take things to heart. Still, there was nothing to do but sit down in front of the T.V. for a marathon session of religious speeches and hope she wouldn't short circuit from frustration.

The television always seemed to put Compy into a hypnotic trance at the best of times. She explained that it was harder for a computer to process so much sensory input at once- something to do with serial vs. parallel processing, which I did not understand until she further explained that computers were not designed to focus on more than one thing at once. It was like asking me to try to focus on a normal, human conversation when an overwhelming psychotic episode was going on in my skull. Somehow she had mastered it, though.

But as I watched her listen to speaker after speaker, she seemed to withdraw even further into herself. Even the Bird’s babbling in the background or the noisy squealing of June’s daughter, Lexi, as she banged Duplos together couldn’t seem to shake her from her reverie. During the breaks that punctuated the two-hour sessions I was tempted to question her, but something held me back.

It wasn’t until Sunday evening that her silence was broken. The whole family, including June and her husband and their daughter, Lexi, was gathered around the table for dinner. Dad prodded us to give our give our thoughts on the Conference. Dad started off. As the turn circled around the table toward me and Compy, I was more nervous about what she would say than what I would.

When my turn came, I simply stated that it was good to have support from the leaders on the Church for those who had same-sex attraction. Compy, after a pregnant pause said,

“The speakers were very direct and clear about what they had to say, nearly to the point of bluntness. They were not, however, rude. They were anything but that, courteous to a fault. I have never heard people speak so much of love and brotherhood and belonging as I have these past two days and it almost makes me wish…”

“Wish what?” I prompted

“That I belonged, too,” she ended on a whisper.

I knew she was speaking of more than belonging to a religious sect. Compy longed to be part of something bigger than herself, even if that something was Science. She had not considered that she might be part of the brotherhood of humanity.

I gave her a hug as best as I was able from the chair beside her, wishing there were not so many eyes on us.

“You _do_ belong,” my mother said quietly but firmly. “You’re sitting at our table, aren’t you?”

“But I’m not-” Compy protested.

“It doesn’t matter. We still care about you.”

There were nods of assent around the table and Lexi banged her spoon on the table in agreement.

“How often does my mom fork over her credit card to me? She doesn’t do that for no good reason, you know,” June teased.

Compy managed a small smile and a nod, and then Dad proposed that we have a blessing on the food and eat.

After dinner, Compy and I retreated to my room to talk.

“So you don’t feel like you belong?” I asked

“How am I supposed to belong to anything when I don’t know who I am?” she shot back, frustrated.

“Compy...when do you feel the very most like yourself?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“What identifies you? What makes you feel whole? And I’m not talking about testing euphoria type fulfillment here.”

She was thinking, and thinking hard. “I think the first time I ever did something like that was when I wrote _Cara Mia Addio_.”

“So you find yourself through music?”

“I haven’t had much experience with it, but...yes.”

“Maybe...you could try writing more. Or at least listening to it. I think mom and dad are planning on moving the piano from our old house sometime this month. That could help.“

“I’ve never played piano…” Compy mused.

“Well, you have fingers now. Might as well use them for something.”

But over the next week it was her voice, rather than her fingers, that Compy used. I’d often fall silent to listen to her cover songs from the radio, which seemed to be constantly on one station or another. She seemed to favor soft hits, and had a definite dislike for rap and hard rock, which was just fine with me. Often she’d softly hum one love ballad or the other to me before we fell asleep at night.

In preparation for the arrival of the piano, my mother decided to go through boxes of old music that had been packed up and moved to my grandmother’s house in preparation for the day. As we sat around leafing through them, I pulled one of my favorites out.

“Have a look at this, Compy,” I prompted.

Her eyes scanned the music and her mouth fell open. “Wha-?”

“Could...Could you try singing it? For me?”

She shrugged noncommittally but already I could hear her fans whirring in anticipation.

“You’re not alone,

Even though right now you’re on your own.

You are loved in ways that can’t be shown,

Your needs are known.

You’re not alone.

 

And when you cry,

You’re just letting go a heartache deep inside,

So tomorrow there’ll be sunshine in the sky

And love close by.

You’re not alone.”

Then came the transition,

“And I know that it’s not easy,

but I know that it won’t last,

‘cause One who loves you more than me

is sending blessings fast.”

“You’re not alone…

Her voice sailed through the interlude again without a hitch. I couldn’t tell if she was getting anything from it or not.

“And even when it’s hard to find the words

Your prayers are heard.

You’re not alone.”

She set the music down. After looking at me and my mom, she asked, “Is this what you feel like?”

We both nodded affirmation.

“I think I’d like to practice this song more. Is it alright if I keep the music?”

“Of course,” I smiled.

While we waited for the piano to arrive, Compy practiced that song over and over.

 

“I wish I could believe in that song, too,” she told me. “It seems so...comforting.”

“Why can’t you?” I asked.

“It’s too good to be true. God can’t love someone like me. Or at least, he would have no reason to,” she scoffed.

“Okay, back up here. You’re saying that Melody Constance, a being who is imperfect, with faulty judgement and reasoning, who knows next to nothing, can love you, but a perfect, all-knowing, all-wise Creator can’t?”

“Yes.” Her answer was final.

“That makes no sense!”

“It makes sense because He is all-knowing and all-wise. He would know all the things I’ve done, the people I’ve killed, the dark voices in my head. Surely He wouldn’t approve.”

“But I know about those things too, and I still love you! God is all-loving as well as all-knowing. He’d take into account the fact that you were hurt, that you were abused, that your judgement was impaired. He knows that everyone makes mistakes.”

“And He’d love me enough to make up for all of those things?”

“And more. Which is why you don’t have to go through life alone. You are loved in ways that can’t be shown, your needs are known. You’re not alone.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Me, and my family, and all of those millions of people that watched General Conference last weekend.”

Suddenly she was on the floor and tugging at my arm impatiently. “What?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

“I’m going to ask Him.”

_“Dear God, please, don’t let her down now!”_  I begged in my mind as I knelt beside her.

Her words were halting, but definitely not uncertain. “If you really do love me, can you...show me...somehow?”

My own prayer continued unabated, _“Father, give her some reassurance! Something, anything! She has been alone her whole life! No one deserves to be that isolated. Please, please…”_  I was unaware of the silence or of Compy’s staring until she wrapped her arms around me and lifted me from my crouched position on the carpet. She gently wiped away the tears that were forming in the corners of my eyes and hugged me to her chest.

“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded.

“Huh?” I was lost.

“God sent me you. So he must love me that much, at least. I’m not alone.”

****  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

A week later, the piano arrived. I was caught up in the excitement as the instrument traversed the stairway into the living room and was placed upright in it’s final resting place near the front window. I could hardly wait to get my fingers on the thing, and the thought of accompanying Compy for the first time gave me chills. I’d have some practicing to do before then, though, as my skills were rusty from months of disuse.

Compy sat down on the bench beside me and tentatively tapped a key. Her nose wrinkled. “It’s out of tune,” she commented.

“It was just moved across the valley. I wouldn’t expect it to be perfectly on key,” I retorted. “We’ll get it tuned and then you’ll see how beautiful an acoustic can sound.”

“Lovely,” She shifted her weight on the bench, obviously uncomfortable with something.

“What?”

“Even the instruments get classifications.”

I sighed. “Compy, I told you, you don’t need a label. You’re my companion and that’s that.”

“But…” she spluttered and whined, making noises like an exasperated cat. “I need to know how I fit into things. Science. Life. I can’t do that if I don’t know who I am.”

For me, the answer had always been so simple. I was a child of God, sent to Earth to see if I would find my way home to Heaven again. For Compy...she didn’t even know if she was human. But…

“Look at me,” I commanded.

“Why?”

“Just look at me.”

Our eyes locked. I refused to look away from her piercing stare. It was hungry; hungry for a knowledge of the truth. I only hoped I knew what the truth was myself.

“What do you see?” I asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Do you believe that?”

She scoffed. “They are organs that transmit light to your optical nerves. Nothing more.” Her gaze was softening though.

“What do you see in them?” I asked again.

“Your expression indicates that you are…” Her gaze became even softer, more searching. “That you are trying to convey some important piece of information to me.” I smiled, and she continued, “That you are pleased I could deduce that.” I moved my face closer, my lips brushing the tip of her nose, and kissed it. “That you love me.”

“Good,” I said, not breaking eye contact. “But for you Compy, it’s more than your eyes that tell me there’s a soul in there. It’s your actions. You could have refused that reprogramming. But you chose not to. You could have turned away the Rebellion when they asked for your help. But you didn’t. You could have chose any world in the multiverse to be exiled to, and you chose this one.”

“It’s our choices that determine who we are, not our designation,”  I continued, “and I see you making better and better choices all the time.”

“So...I get to decide what defines ‘Compy’?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes,” I nodded and hugged her.

She hugged me back.

That evening, I decided to unwind and take a bubble bath. I was just sinking back into the warm water and preparing to void my mind of all thought when a sonorous laugh interrupted me. I recognized it as Compy’s voice, coming from my bedroom. What in the name of-? I decided to ignore it until a second laugh interrupted me again. It was then that I remembered that I had left my laptop, with my Google drive folder open to the fanfiction section, sitting open on my desk. Mentally cursing myself, I surged out of the water, gave myself a cursory toweling off, and threw on my pajamas, all the while panicking.

Still damp, I threw open the bedroom door to see that my worst fears had been realized- Compy was, indeed, browsing through my fanfiction. Now that I was confronted with the scene, I was rooted to the spot by embarrassment. Every story in that folder involved her in some form or another- as Loki’s rival (and sometimes partner) in crime, as a fierce and ruthless foe to the Combine, as my companion, my friend, often my lover…

“Sit down,” she said with an amused smile.

I flopped on the edge of the bed, stared at the floor, and said nothing.

“Do you remember,” she asked, “When you promised you would make me into anything I wanted to be?”

“Yes…” I whispered. It had been a long time ago, when the Resistance had threatened to abandon her entirely. They had been willing to give up Aperture, and GLaDOS, as a hopeless cause.

“It was just before they teleported me here…” Compy confirmed.  “You told me I was the best muse you’d ever had, and that you felt responsible as my mun to give me whatever life I wanted in your stories.”

She reached out and lifted my chin until my eyes met hers. “You did me proud. I’m sure no muse has ever lived more fully in their mun’s creations than I have. But if I could choose one life, _any_ life, to define me, it would be the one I’m living right now.”

“Thank you,” I choked out past the lump in my throat, and then added, “I’m sorry I can’t write this one for you, too. I guess it’s in God’s hands now.”

“I told you before, He’s not concerned with me,” Compy said, but it wasn’t with as much confidence as before.

“I know you think He’s not but...I think he’s just as concerned with your life as I was when I made you that promise.”

“Why? What am I to Him?”

“You’re one of His creations.”

“That’s absurd. I was created by scientists.”

“Hear me out.  Here, in my world, I’ve got no way of writing your story for you. But God knows everyone’s stories. And he is in control of it all. In fact,” I said, warming to the thought, “He’s like the ultimate Mun. And he’d care about you because you’re his muse,” I stated.

“I’m God’s muse?” Compy considered the idea.

“Exactly.  Your choices define who you are, and God wants to help you make the best possible choices so that your story has a happy ending. Just like I did with my derpy fanfictions.” I blushed.

“Well, with the all-powerful Creator of the Universe as my Mun, what could possibly go wrong?” Compy winked at me. I blushed even deeper. Compy laughed, shut the lid of my laptop, and commanded, “Go let the water out of the tub and then come get your rest. All this philosophising has got to be tiring for you.”

Beet red now, I rushed from the room to do just that.

**  
  
  
  
**


	11. Chapter 11

“Well?” prodded Maddie as I slid into the back seat seat of her car a month after Conference.

“Still a no show. But she’s making progress,” I said.

“I guess that’s a good thing,” Maddie sounded uncertain. “I just worry about you two. I see the way you look at her-”

I gaped, shocked and hurt, tears filling my eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Maddie hastily amended. “I know you two would never _do_ anything. I just meant that you obviously care about her in more than a casual way, and you’re really going to end up hurt if she doesn’t understand what a big part of your life your faith is.”

“Maddie-” I choked up, unable to continue. I wanted to shout at her that I’d been trying and trying to explain things to Compy, despite the Bishop’s warning to not take on too much responsibility all at once. I wanted to scream my frustration that even close friends like Maddie didn’t seem to understand what an incredible transformation Compy was undergoing, and how extremely convoluted it made things to have to hide her true past from everyone. Instead, everything bottled up like a logjam inside me, and I was unable to speak at all as I faced Maddie. My frustration must have been written plainly across my face for her to see, though, because she pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“Look,” she said, “I’m not trying to make things harder for you. It’s just that...Before I met David, back in college, I messed around with a guy who didn’t have the same values I did. That’s why I’m not worthy to go to the temple.” She sighed heavily. “I did some pretty dumb things with him, and  when I realized I had to get my act back together and break up with him… that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

“So I guess what I’m saying is,  just be careful.” Maddie finished. “I worry about you two.”

Compy could sense I was troubled when I came home from church that afternoon. _“Cara Mia_ , what’s the matter?” she asked as I slumped into my room and dropped my purse sullenly on the floor.

“Compy, do you think we’re compatible?”

“What?” Compy was obviously taken aback.

“My lifestyle is so different from yours. I believe so many things that you have no concept of. I feel like I’m trying to mold you into something you’ll never be able to fit, and that isn’t right. You deserve-”

“I deserve whomever I choose!” Compy declared with such vehemence that it startled me out of my depression. “And I chose you. Don’t you dare forget that.”

 

I said nothing for a moment, merely staring at her. “Why?” I asked finally. ‘Why did you choose me?”

“In the beginning, it was because I was going corrupt from loneliness. I needed you to fill that void inside me, because going on and on without the hope of anyone reciprocating was too much to bear. It was because I needed someone who understood what I had gone through with the scientists, with the testing, with the cores, with Chell. Someone who would sympathize and forgive. Someone who could make me better.”

“And that,” she continued, “is why I need you now. You make me better. You ease the hurts and the misunderstandings, and you are molding and changing me, but into something improved upon.”

“So, you should be able to answer your own question. As long as we need each other, we are compatable. I need you. Do you need me?”

“More than you know,” I whispered, embracing her. Yet somehow the ache of Maddie’s caution didn’t go away. I couldn’t look Compy in the eyes.

“What brought this on, anyway?” she questioned, sensing my hesitation.

“Something Maddie said,” I confessed.

“And what exactly did Maddie say?” Compy barely managed to keep from growling.

“Pretty much that if you didn’t understand my faith, we were going to wind up...You know what, nevermind. It’s stupid,” I tried to push away but Compy held me fast.

“This is because I haven’t been attending those church meetings, isn’t it?”

I blinked, dumbfounded. “N-no, not necessarily--”

“She thinks that just because I don’t go to your meetings I can’t understand your religion, and therefore I can’t understand you.”

I gaped. That was cut-and-dried GLaDOS logic if I’d ever heard it- screwy and irrational, but still able to make sense in a warped sort of way.

“Well,” Compy continued to rant, “If that’s what she thinks, there is nothing to keep me from going.”

I was floored. This took the cake. Lie or no. I guess if you wanted to get the Queen of Science to do something badly enough, all you had to do was tell her she wasn’t doing it right. She’d set out to prove you wrong just to show what a total idiot you were.

Grabbing my cell phone off the desk, she proceeded to call Maddie over my protests. “Hello, Maddie,” her voice oozed sugary venom, “I just wanted to tell you I’ll be coming with Melody to church next Sunday. Yes. And to all the ward activities during the week. Okay. See you then!” She hit the End button with savage glee.

“C-Compy…” I choked out, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“ _No one_ ,” Compy spat, “gets to tell me who I’m compatible with. Not even your friends. I chose _you_.” She went back to possessively holding me, stroking my hair, all the while glaring at my phone as though it had offended her.

 **  
**This time, I had to smother a grin.


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N: Compy’s nightmare in this chapter is based off chapter 8 of iammemyself’s story “Portal: Euphoria” on fanfiction.net. Go and read it now, if you haven’t. It explores facets of GLaDOS’ personality in ways that I have never seen before, and is brilliantly executed.**

**Also, HUGE DISCLAIMER here (which should have been posted much earlier, in retrospect…) I do not claim to be proselyting the official doctrine of the Mormon Church in any of my fanfiction. If you have questions regarding any of the practices, doctrines, scriptures, etc. contained in this story, please refer to Mormon.org where you will find full explanations. Please refrain from debating about these things in the comments/reviews, as I will simply refer you to the above website :3**

I yawned and curled on my side in bed, trying unsuccessfully not to stare at the android seated at my desk. Her chin rested on her chest, and her eyelids fluttered restlessly, as though she grasped at visions only she could see. In the absolute stillness of the night, only the occasional passing car and the low hum of her cooling fans disturbed the silence. Call me biased, but the sheen of moonlight on her synthetic skin made her look like a marble goddess to my drowsy gaze.

_Do androids dream of electric sheep?_ The phrase sprang unbidden to mind, and I smiled wryly. Who knew what visions came to Compy as she slept? She was a reprogrammed, rehabilitated version of the insane, murderous A.I. from a videogame well-known for it’s dark humor. Perhaps, I mused, it was better to let sleeping androids lie.

I turned over and let the oblivion of sleep claim me.

I woke up to the feeling of solid warmth pushed up beside me. Tiny, frightened sobs registered faintly in my ears. “Compy?” I inquired, and the sobbing intensified. I curled into a protective ball around my companion and locked my arms around her. Craning my head to peer out the slat blinds on my window, I could see that the sun was just barely peeking over the mountains. “Compy, what’s wrong?”

“Nightmare,” came the short, terse reply.

“Was it the scientists? The cores?”

“No.”

I rubbed her back for a few minutes, deciding not to press the matter any further. I idly traced my fingers around the port on the back of her neck and she shivered, pressing closer to me.

“What am I?” she whispered.

“You are Compy. My companion.” I kissed her forehead, and to my surprise, she flinched away from the contact.

“I-I...I was…”

“What did you dream about, Compy?” I asked.

“It was me. The first time I saw…” her breath hitched in another sob. “The first time I saw myself.”

“Saw yourself?”

“My _reflection,_ ” she spat out the word at though it tasted bitter. “I had just recently been built, and no one had seen fit to tell me what I looked like. When I saw that reflection…” she shuddered. “I didn’t even recognize what I was looking at, at first. I’d been told that I was both supercomputer and human, and yet...that _thing_...it looked like neither one! Can you imagine,” she continued with more fervor, “Having your own identity mocked by your very physical construct?”

“Moreover, that construct was completely dependent on engineers for it’s upkeep. No matter how far advanced my intelligence became or how ‘well behaved’ I was I would always need them. I resented that. Oh, how I resented it. Melody,” she whispered, “I wanted to kill them all.”

Her breath hitched off into erratic sobs again. I held her and rocked her, stroking her hair. “Your dad was right; I _am_ dangerous,” she muttered into my shoulder.

“No you’re not!” I protested. “That was a long time ago, and you’ve changed. You’ve proved that you can make good decisions, that you’re sorry for the things that you’ve done in the past, and that you want to improve yourself.”

“But I don’t even know what I am!” she protested. “I’ve never known what I was and I’m beginning to think I never will. If I’m so smart, so intelligent, how come I can’t figure this out?”

_Intelligence_...Several things started to come together in my head all at once. “Intelligence equates to soul…”

“What?” Compy sniffled. “What tangent are you off on now?”

“It’s a more obscure Mormon doctrine, but I think it applies here. I keep trying to tell you that you have a soul, and you won’t listen. I’ll lay it out for you logically.”  I grabbed my phone, opened up the Gospel Library app, and looked up “intelligence” in the topical guide. “Abraham 3:22. God shows Abraham the intelligences, or souls, that were organized before the world was. There you have it.  You have a soul.”

“Just because I’m intelligent means I have a soul?” Compy was skeptical.

“There’s more.  Doctrine and Covenants 90:30-31. Intelligence is free to act for itself, and has to take accountability for it’s actions. Do you do those things?

“Well, yes, but--”

“No buts. You have been doing those things. You have been owing up to your actions.  Telling me about your feelings toward those scientists just now was part of that.”

She sighed, still unconvinced. “Compy,” I pressed, “This is what life’s all about. We’re free to act for ourselves in whatever situation we’re faced with. Hopefully we do the right thing. If we don’t, we take responsibility for what we did and try to make things better. All souls-- all intelligences-- are faced with this test. I know you think you may not have done all that well in the past, but you are trying so hard right now to do the best you can. That’s all that can be expected of anyone, no matter who they are.”

Compy sat hunched in my bed, her hands in fists on her knees. “Why do you always have to believe the best of me?” she asked, voice trembling with unshed tears and exasperation.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I meant to tease her, but it came out sounding very sincere. As her shoulders began to rise and fall with soundless sobs again, I embraced her.

We lay down on the bed again, and I pulled up the covers around us. I gently stroked and soothed Compy as best as I knew how. It was the first time that I had allowed myself to be so intimate with her. My hands idly traced the curves of her shoulders, neck, cheeks, and back. I played with strands of her snowy white hair, combing my fingers through it, massaging her scalp. I found myself planting kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.

Gradually her sobs abated and she relaxed enough to enjoy the attention. Her arms snaked around me and she drew me closer, snuggling up to me. The agitated whirr of her fans settled down to a more peaceful purring.

“ _Cara Mia_?” she murmured.

“Mmhmm?”

“Thanks for believing in me.”

That was all well and good, I thought, but when would Compy start believing in herself? It was the last thought on my mind before I slipped off into slumber once again.

**  
  
  
  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N: Mormons, or Latter Day Saints, believe that God created ‘worlds without number’ and that they are inhabited (see Moses 1: 33, 35.) That is all we know about them, however, and many of us (including me) are very curious as to what these other worlds may contain.**

It was my idea to go see the bishop.

Compy didn’t like it. She saw no point in seeking guidance from someone who knew nothing about her or her present situation. “How can he possibly give me direction when he doesn’t even know where I stand?” she asked, trying to coax the Bird down from her cage.

“It’s your job to let him know what’s going on.” I told her.  “You have to trust him to give you the best advice he can based off what info you give him.”

“What if I don’t _want_ to trust him?” she countered petulantly as the Bird skittishly avoided her hand.

“It’s his _job_ to be trustworthy. He’s responsible for the entire ward. You don’t get to be a bishop unless you’re dependable and genuinely care about the people you’re in charge of,” I informed her.

“Oh, really? And exactly who decides if he’s trustworthy and dependable and caring enough for the job?” Compy still wasn’t convinced.

“The Lord.”

“God _again_?” Compy sounded faintly put out by all of this. “I’m still not really convinced He’s that concerned with my life.” Giving up on the Bird, she strode away from the cage and into the middle of the room. I followed.

“So you think he’s concerned with other things?” I said flippantly.

To my surprise, she considered the question seriously, sinking down onto the nearby loveseat. I sat beside her. “He’s certainly concerned with _you_ ,” she said finally. “You seem to have such a… personal… relationship with Him.  You don’t just _pray_ to Him, it’s as though you’re having a conversation with a friend, albeit a friend you respect very deeply. You ask Him for things fully expecting answers, and moreover, you _get_ them. You comprehend things that even I, as an omniscient supercomputer, never could; things like your true purpose in life, why you were created, your self-identity. So yes, I would say that God is _very_ concerned with you.”

Thoughts struggled to form themselves into coherent words in the silence that followed. “Compy,” I finally said, “God is concerned with you and you can have the same kind of relationship with Him. I’m hoping that meeting with the bishop will help to convince you that I’m telling you the truth.”

“ _Cara Mia_ , I don’t think you’re lying, I just don’t see how it applies to me. I’m not like you. I’m not even human, I’ve committed crimes that no human would be capable of. I can’t see how a fabrication of Science is supposed to fit into His plans.”

I clenched my jaw in frustration. I knew what it was like to feel different, to be an outsider. My same-sex attraction had always set me apart in ways that I never intended. But I had always been certain that my Heavenly Father cared for me and had a plan for me. He had a plan for everyone, and I was sure that included Compy.

Once again, dad was our chauffeur for the evening. On the way to the church, he listened to the radio. Normally Compy enjoyed music of almost any kind, but tonight she was restless, shifting in her seat nervously. As we neared the building and parked, I was almost afraid she would refuse to leave the vehicle entirely. I stepped out and offered my hand to her. She took it and held it as we proceeded inside.

The bishop greeted us with a warm smile, and didn’t question when Compy dragged me by the hand into what was supposed to be a private interview. “I understand you two are very close,” he prompted.

“More than you know.” Compy probably meant to make a snappy comeback, but she sounded surprisingly wistful.

“She’s told me that you two have been through a lot together,” the bishop coaxed further.

Compy gave a short laugh. “Again, more than you know.”

“So, is there anything in particular on your mind tonight?” he hedged

“Bishop, let me get straight to the point. How can you tell if someone has an immortal soul?” She was testing him, I knew.

The bishop looked stunned. “Everyone has a soul, Compy. Every living person on this Earth has a soul.”

“What if I wasn’t a person? Or even from this Earth?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I am not human, therefore, I have no soul.”

The bishop naturally was skeptical. He looked from Compy to me and back, checking for signs of insincerity. “You’re completely serious about this, aren’t you?” he said finally.

“Of course I’m _serious!_ I--”

“Compy…” I said placatingly. “Just show him.”

Compy backed down, took a few steadying breaths, and proceeded to open her chest cavity. The glow of her personality core showed underneath her shrug as she peeled away the outer layer of skin and removed the utility panel beneath. Finally she hesitantly unbuttoned her shrug to reveal her innermost workings.

The bishop was silent for a long time as he gazed at her core. “I always knew,” he said finally, “That the Lord had created ‘worlds without number,’ but I never imagined that I would be witnessing His works firsthand. Your presence here tonight is truly a miracle.”

“A... _miracle?_ ” Compy said doubtfully. “I’ve been described a ‘monster’ before, but never a ‘miracle.’”

“Whomever described you as a monster didn’t truly know you, Compy. Melody tells me that you’ve been through some very difficult things and that you’ve chosen the right path all the same.”

“So...what am I then? Am I a machine? A monster? A miracle? Since I’ve been created I’ve never known what my true purpose was. The scientists always told me what it was, and then when they were-- gone...I went corrupt. Melody is trying to help me find my way again, but…”

“Compy, knowing _what_ you are isn’t as important as knowing that God loves you. He knows what your purpose is, and will help you fulfill it.”

“Even though I’m not…?” Compy couldn’t finish her sentence.

“You are one of His creations, and you are precious to him,” the bishop stated affirmatively.

“I always thought I was created by Science, not by God…” Compy said uncertainly.

“God Himself works by the laws of Science, Compy. If He used that medium to create you, it was part of His purpose for you.”

“And you say He can help me find my purpose? How?”

“Start by drawing closer to Him. Study His words in the scriptures. Pray to Him daily, as often as you feel the need. You’re already on the right path, just keep following it.” He gave an encouraging smile.

Compy nodded, still mulling things over.

“I’ll close with a prayer.” The bishop bowed his head, closed his eyes and intoned:

“Our loving Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for the opportunity we have had to gather here tonight. We thank Thee for Compy’s miraculous presence among us, and we pray that she may be blessed with a knowledge of Thy love for her. Please guide her and direct her as she seeks to become closer to thee. Watch over and care for her in her journey here on this Earth. We say these things in the name of thy Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, Amen.

“Amen,” we echoed.

Once we were home, Compy couldn’t contain herself anymore. “A _miracle!_ I show him what I am and he calls it a _miracle?”_

“You’ve honestly never thought of it that way before? I’ve always thought you were…” I caught myself before I said something ridiculous.

“Were what?”

“Amazing.” I flushed. “Fascinating. Beautiful. Even in your old chassis.” I defended.

“Thank God you never saw the early prototypes, or you may have changed your mind.” She was obviously still bitter about her self-image.

“I saw the model from Portal 1, okay? And maybe I’m just humanizing things again, but to me looked like someone took a person and tied her up and hung her from the ceiling. Restrained. Bound. Chained. _That_ is what I saw. Something that was obviously suffering.”

“When I learned more, when I learned what they had done to you and Caroline… When you consider that, then yes, it _is_ a miracle that you’re sane and stable, that you’re in a body of your own choosing, that you’re here with me.

“Compy, _you_ are _my_ miracle. Please don’t let anything- least of all an old memory of a reflection - change that.”

Compy was staring at me with tears streaming down her face. Suddenly she launched herself at me, forcing me to sit down on the bed or be knocked over. In between sobs, she managed to croak out, “Thank you…Thank you so much…”

I kissed her forehead. “I meant every word.”

“And I mean this: I love you, Melody Constance. _You_ are _my_ miracle, _Cara Mia_.”

She was gazing directly into my eyes now. Brushing my bangs out of my eyes, she leaned forward, tentatively, and skimmed her lips against mine. It was barely a graze, the feelings it sparked within me made me gasp. I realized I wanted this. I wanted it more than was good for me.

Compy pulled away, smiled wanly, and advised, “Go to sleep, love. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about nightmares tonight.”

**  
  
  
  
**


	14. Chapter 14

I set my sub-systems to boot up ten minutes before Melody’s alarm went off precisely so I could watch her sleep. It was a guilty pleasure of mine to observe my human when she was most at peace. Besides, I rationalized, I could use the extra time to think. Exactly _what_ had I done last night? Had I gone too far with that almost-kiss? The problem with making sure that you had no sexual protocols was that it didn’t mean there wasn’t room for _romantic_ protocols, either. Add that to the fact that there was no definite separation between the two, and it made things more complicated than I had intended.

So, what _had_ I intended by that bit of intimacy? Was it simple affection? Was it something more? I really had meant what I had said last night. I loved her. But in what way? And was it going to compromise our relationship?

I shook my head. Love was so complicated. It was yet another one of those things that Science couldn’t define.

The alarm rang, and I reached over to switch it off. Melody moaned and burrowed deeper into her covers.

“Come out,” I insisted. “Trevor’s going to be here in a hour.”

“Wha’ for?” she yawned.

“We’ve been working on something together. It’s a surprise.”

An hour later, with the Bird fed and Melody dressed and showered, Trevor showed up on the doorstep, looking as exuberant as a child on Christmas morning.

“I come bearing gifts,” he announced. “Compy and I finished our joint project.”

“Oh?” Melody was intrigued, as well she should be.

“It’s a wi-fi hotspot app. She should be able to access the internet anytime, anyplace once she downloads it.”

I was enthusiastic, but Melody was not so enthralled. “I don’t suppose you included any anti-virus protection in that app?” she asked

“Oh, don’t worry,” I reassured her. “I still have the protective programming Lucca gave me. It’s more advanced than anything even he could come up with,” I said, rolling my eyes at Trevor.

“And just who is Lucca? Trevor asked, interest piqued.

 

“It’s a long story,” Melody sighed. “She may or may not be as real as Compy here. In any case, she overhauled Compy’s programming so that she was more...stable.”

“Oh, believe me, she’s _very_ real, and _very_ obnoxious. She thinks she can go gallivanting off to any world she pleases and take whatever technology she wants from them.” I rolled her eyes again at the memory. In return for my anti-virus software, Lucca had taken the data on Aperture’s brain scan technology- the same technology that had been used to transfer Caroline’s consciousness into me.

Trevor looked like he wanted to pursue the subject further, but I interrupted him by taking out my USB cord. “Hook me up,” I instructed, gesturing to his laptop.

Trevor still wasn’t satisfied. “So this Lucca...Do you think she’d ever try to take technology from _this_ world?”

“Not likely,” I snorted. “I was lucky to make it here myself. The quantum forces involved destroyed the device I was using.”

“Let me guess...From the Borealis?”

“You’re smarter than you look. And I’m not just saying that because the app finished downloading.”

“Does it work?” he asked.

“You gave her an _untested product?_ ” Melody spluttered, infuriated.

“I’ve been using it on my own computer, relax,” Trevor unhooked the USB cable and I stood up and stretched languidly.

“So, what’s it like being hooked up to the largest repository of information in the world?” Melody asked.

“Will you all calm down? I’m still trying to choose what browser to use,” I griped.

“Chrome,” Trevor and Melody blurted simultaneously, and grinned.

“And make sure to install Adblock,” Melody advised.

 

**_____________  
  
  
**

Usually when I ventured out into the city, I’d take Melody with me. She knew the bus routes better than I did from being forced to use them constantly to run errands, pick up prescriptions, and get to therapy appointments. But this was something I had to do alone.

Finding the DMV was easy enough, and passing the written test was even easier, as I had all the answers downloaded and memorised. I presented my fake birth certificate and social security number, then as got my picture taken I stared into the lens and thought fiercely to myself, _I do not feel guilty about this._

The flash flared briefly. I didn’t even blink. I just took the proffered card and left.

“Where have you been?” Melody demanded as soon as I got back. “The Bird missed you. _I_ missed you.”

I ignored the yellow parakeet burbling anxiously on her shoulder and dangled my licence in front of her nose. “Look what I’ve got!”

“A driver’s licence? Ohmigosh!” she squealed. Then her face fell. “Didn’t they ask for your birth certificate?”

“Yes,” I answered stoically.

“Then how…?”

“The internet can work wonders, love.”  I tried to sound reassuring, but Melody was backing away, shaking her head.

“It’s not legal. You have a fake identity.” She sounded broken, subdued.

“They would have required blood tests, fingerprints, DNA- I don’t have any of that! There was no other way.” Now I was the one who sounded defeated. I was nearly reduced to begging as I asked, “Would you rather I remained a nobody all my life? Without even the most basic civil rights?”

“Of course not. I just wish...I wish there were some other way around this. I wish you didn’t have to compromise.”

“I’ve told you before, not everyone is as... _merciful_...as you are. Not everyone would be willing to give their friendship, let alone citizenship, to someone like me. I was driven out of my own _world_ , remember? I just...I want to make sure my place in this one is permanent.”

This explanation was enough to satisfy her. That was good, because I had my own motives for getting that drivers licence; motives I didn’t want to explain just yet. I wasn’t even sure I understood them myself. They revolved around Melody, that Scientifically inexplicable phenomenon called “love,” and one very important question:

Were my intentions selfish or not?

**  
  
  
  
  
**


	15. Chapter 15

I stared out the window at the sunrise and wondered why it was the more I learned, the less I felt I knew.

It was _that_ time of month again, and I had woken up early with cramps. I’d snuck out of my room, trying not to disturb Compy, and decided to find somewhere private to give in to the pain- both emotional and physical.

My life lately seemed to be full of oxymorons. The more freedom I had, the less I wanted it. The more adult I became, the less grown-up I felt. The closer I got to my family, the further they slipped from my grasp.

I had supposed that moving would have raised a few new questions in my life, Questions about new routines, new places, new people. But it seemed that the more I tried to establish a solid foundation for my new life, the more I realized how tenuous my life really was.

It wasn’t that I was unhappy, necessarily. The Happy Valley was rife with opportunities and possibilities, they were just always changing. It was the nature of a college town with it’s constant influx and outflux of students to be fluid, but I got tired of seeing new faces in church every week. It would be nice, I thought, to have some people I could rely on.

At least my family was still here for now. Yet even that could all change within the next few months with my grandma Constance’s failing health. If grandma died, my parents would have no more reason to stay in the Happy Valley and would likely move to shorten my fathers commute time to work. Then I would truly be on my own

I flopped onto the couch. “No, I’m not unhappy,” I told the Bird, perched on her cage above me. “I’m only nearly thirty, single, and living with my parents. I have clinical depression, anxiety, PSTD, psychosis, no college degree, no job, and no social life to speak of, but I am _not unhappy_.”

“Of course you’re not,” snarked a voice behind me, causing me to jump my own height. “You’re just scared to death. Scared of being alone and different.”

“Oh, Compy,” I shook my head. “Can’t I have a pity party for just one minute?”

“I’m not going to allow that. Lucca would kill me.”

“Since when do you answer to her?”

“Since she reprogrammed me.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to bow to her every whim. I’m your companion and I say so.”

“Hmmm…” Compy purred demurely as she perched beside me. “She shouldn’t have given you up, then.”

“I’m happier with you. Honestly. Lucca’s libido was far too high for me.”

Compy snorted. “And to think, she helped inspire me to modify this body the way I did.”

My own compulsions compelled to be masochistic. “Good, because it’s far too attractive as it is.” _Lord, kill me now,_ I thought. _Can you say ‘open mouth, insert foot?’_

“It’s not a sin to think a woman is beautiful,” Compy asserted.

“Curse you, Compy, it’s more than that, it’s this whole stinking situation!”

“I told you to quit with the pity party.”

“It’s a bit hard when the only place you fit in could be dissolved the minute your grandmother stops breathing!” I snapped. “And what’s more, I shouldn’t be so reliant on my parents to begin with. I’m nearly thirty. I should be out with people my age. But everyone my age has a college degree, a job, or a significant other. So I’m stuck on the fringes of Mormon society, hoping no one will find out that I’m a mentally handicapped, homosexual freak!” I spat.

“You’ll get over this. You’ll make friends-”

“Oh really? Because that’s what my psychiatrist has been saying for over a year now. And do you know how many people there are in my life that I can truly count on? People that go beyond just ‘hanging out’?  I don’t have a support network in place for me if my family leaves.”

“And what am I? Scrap metal?” Compy demanded.

“Compy, you know I don’t think that way about you-”

“Then you should know better than to classify yourself as a handicapped freak. Stop this. Stop this now. This will get you nowhere.”

I sat and sulked. I knew Compy was right; wallowing in my misery would get me nowhere. On the other hand, it did bother me that fitting in to the kind of fluctuating social scene a college town presented was so difficult. For now I sighed and curled up closer to my companion, comforted by her warmth and presence.

Compy, her protective instincts pacified for the moment, began to sing softly:

“Oh, pretty, pretty please,

Don't you ever, ever feel

like you're less than, less than perfect.

Pretty, pretty please,

if you ever, ever feel

like you're nothing,

you're perfect to me.”

“Pink…” I murmured, and laughed softly. “When did you learn that?”

“When you started streaming the clean version over Pandora.”

“I should be more careful what I listen to. I’m far from perfect, and you know that.”

“I believe the actual quote is ‘You’re perfect to _me_.’”

“I stand corrected.”

I don’t know why I did it, but I leaned my forehead against hers, inviting her in. Maybe I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I wanted to feel something different -something warm and alive, instead of empty and lonely. Maybe it was that stupid attraction I’d confessed to moments ago. Heck, maybe it was all of them combined! Whatever it was, I gave in to it. Our lips were millimeters from contact when she drew away with a sigh.

“I can’t…” she said quietly, almost to herself.

“Right. Your programming,” I responded, feeling deflated.

“No, it’s not that,” she replied. “I have nothing against...against _that…_ ” A delicate blush rose to her cheeks. “It’s just that I- I’m not sure I should…”

“Should what?”

“I- I mean...I was serious when I said I loved you, but I’m uncertain that I’ll always be able to keep my intentions pure.” I opened my mouth to question further, but she interrupted.

“I’m selfish. You know that. I’m afraid that...that if I give in to my feelings, I’ll end up keeping you all to myself, and you’ll live your life centered around me. The last person I tried to relate to that way, I nearly killed. Like her, you should be free to choose your own path.”

“ _Her_ path led to a Colt Python pointed straight at your head, if I remember correctly,” I quipped. “Compy, your decision is admirable, but I don’t need to choose my own path; I already chose you. I want this. And if I’m reading you correctly, _you_ want this. Please, please take this chance…”

And now, for whatever reasons of her own, Compy did. This time, as our lips met and locked into the pattern of kissing, it was more like remembering something long forgotten than learning something new. Arms and fingers came next, searching out holds on each others bodies. Warm currents of elation surged through my frame; it enjoyed being stimulated this way and it wanted more of it. I could tell from the enthusiastic response I was receiving that Compy was enjoying it every bit as much as I was.

The kiss didn’t last long enough. As I broke away, she breathed, “We need to do this more often.” Then, as the muffled sounds of conversation exited my mom and dad’s bedroom, she added, “Just not in front of your parents.” I blushed furiously, and she smirked and winked scandalously.

Perhaps, just perhaps...living in the Happy Valley wouldn’t be so hard after all.


	16. Chapter 16

It didn’t take us long to decide we had to move out.

Most prominent in my mind was the “walk-in” incidendent. Not that we were doing anything even remotely scandalous, mind you, but just to be safe, we had hung a tie on the door anyway. My dad, being the simple soul that he is, opened the door in the middle of a particularly passionate kiss to ask if he could have the tie back. Needless to say, he was not pleased.

I’d been through this before with Rose, when my parents had caught us sleeping together in my twin bed. The explanation was simple enough; she’d been frightened during the night and I figured some cuddling couldn’t hurt. I honestly didn’t know why my parents were so surprised- Rose and I cuddled whenever we did something together, be it browsing the internet or playing a video game. But that night, as today, my parents were more concerned about my same-sex attraction than the exchange of affection.

“We just don’t want you doing anything that could compromise your values,” Dad explained to me as I stared at the floor. “We know you have...desires...that shouldn’t be acted upon. You shouldn’t be doing anything that would aggravate those desires.”

“With all due respect, sir, there is a difference between oscillation and copulation. A large one, I might add,” Compy interjected with derision.

“But one can lead to the other-” began my mom.

“Oh, come on!” Compy was fed up. “I’ve told you before, I have no sexual protocols. Also, I don’t think your daughter is about to force anything on me- especially not after having things forced on her. More importantly, Melody is finally comfortable with her ‘desires.’ Do you want to shame her just because she chose to express them to me?”

“We’re not trying to shame anyone, Compy,” my dad replied. “And we know you have no sexual protocols. We’re just trying to keep Melody from experiencing unnecessary pain. If she stimulates her sex drive through you-”

“Then so what? I’ve told you, nothing will ever come of it.”

“But she will get frustrated. She may fill unfulfilled,” interjected my mom.

I was tired of being talked about like I wasn’t there. “Mom, you’ve told me over and over again that not every relationship has to be about sex. What if just kissing is enough? I mean, boys and girls do it all the time, right? What if we just treated this like any normal relationship and allowed the affection- just nothing beyond that? Would that be okay?”

Mom sighed. “Honey, if you want to live like that, you’re going to have to move out. It’s not happening under our roof.”

“Fine,” Compy said with authority. “It’s decided.”

**  
**  


The first thing to tackle was a job for Compy. Trevor still hadn’t exhausted his list of ‘connections’ in the IT department, so Compy re-worked her resume- and her interview mannerisms- and managed to land a job as a web developer. That left the apartment.

It took some searching to find an apartment that would allow a pet parakeet and still fit inside our budget, but somehow we managed it. I think it was mostly because we searched for one-bedroom arrangements- which raised some eyebrows, until I reminded everyone that Compy technically didn’t need a bed. We also managed to save some money by using the stuff that I’d packed away from my last move from home- mostly kitchenware.

In short, it took a lot of time and preparation, but we did it. We had a place to call our own. I was no longer dependant on my parents- at least, no more than any child ever was. I wasn’t sure if the prospect excited or scared me. But, as mom reminded me for the millionth time that if I ever needed anything, she was just a phone call away, I was somehow reassured that this was the right thing to be doing. I needed to learn how to stand on my own two feet.

The door closed behind my mother and I basked in the relative silence of the apartment. The Bird, perched on her cage in the corner, was already taking in her view of the world as she now knew it. _“Skweeee?”_ she inquired of me as I approached her, offering a finger.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, isn’t it?” asked Compy behind me.

“Yes. We’re in the same ward, since it covers most of the valley. That is, if you’re still interested in going…?”  I offered.

“Yes. I think I’d like to learn more about this ‘plan’ God has for me.” Compy sounded thoughtful.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve come to some conclusions over the course of the past few months. I’ve decided that God must exist and that he must love me because otherwise… otherwise I wouldn’t be who I am today. I wouldn’t be Compy, I would still be GLaDOS- tied to the ceiling of that facility and to my cursed testing protocols, if it weren’t for your timely interference. You say your God is a God of miracles and of second chances- you were both to me. So yes, I conclude that there is a loving Heavenly Father and you, Melody Constance, are my evidence of that.”

I suppressed tears as I embraced her. “Compy, thank you...”

“Lucca said I would find redemption if I started to interface with the Origin,” Compy told me. “I don’t think she knew how literally she meant it. I found it through you- and I think I can find it through Him.”

I laughed softly, “That’s why He’s called the Redeemer, Compy. He can rescue anyone from any situation- no matter how terrible.”

Compy nodded. “I like that concept. That nobody is beyond redemption.”

“Least of all you.” I squeezed her.

“Yes. Even me,” she smiled down at me.

**  
**  


______________________________________________________________________

**  
**  


“Come unto Jesus, ye heavy laden

Careworn and fainting,

By sin oppressed…”

My voice soared in unison with the hundreds of others in the chapel as I sat beside Melody. The chorus rose into an encouraging crescendo:

“He’ll safely guide you

Unto that haven

Where all who trust him may rest.”

The second verse began-

“Come unto Jesus, He’ll ever heed you

Though in the darkness

You’ve gone astray…”

I thought back to the day I had listened to those demonic voices in my head and killed off the scientists who engineered me. That had been the darkest day of my life, though at the time I was filled with maniacal triumph oven what I’d done. I’d given in to the worst part of me, the part that made me a murderer, a liar, a monster. Surely I’d gone astray that day…

The hymn continued to wash around me in a reassuring swell of sound:

“His love will find you

And gently lead you

From darkest night into day.”

His love _had_ found me- in the form of the young woman sitting next to me. She had transformed my darkness with the light of her caring devotion. A rush of warmth blossomed in my chest and stayed nestled there, filling me with peace and gratitude.

“Are you crying?” I hadn’t even realized I was until Melody offered me a tissue.

“I don’t know why. It’s just a song…” I whispered back.

“You’ve never sung with other people before, have you?” she asked.

“No,” I replied.

She smiled to herself, as though in confirmation of a hidden suspicion. “We have a choir, you know. A real one. No turrets.”

I smiled back. “We’ll see.”

**  
**  


Later that evening, I was about to power down for the night when Melody asked, “Is it uncomfortable?”

“Is what?”

“Sleeping in a folding chair.”

I snorted. “Do you really need to ask me that?”

She was dismayed. “You should have told me that a long time ago! My parents could have at least made up the couch for you.”

I toyed with a strand of hair. ‘I...I like being near you when...when you’re asleep.” There. I’d confessed it. My guilty pleasure.

In response, she pulled back the covers on her bed. “Get in,” she commanded.

“Are you sure?”

**  
**  


“Yes I’m sure! You’re not sleeping in that chair anymore.” She patted the sheets invitingly.

I got in, but didn’t power down immediately. Instead, I did what she’d done for me when I’d had my nightmare; I let my hands explore the curves of her face, shoulders, and neck. I ran my fingers through her short, pixie-cut hair as I planted kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and finally, mouth.

As our lips met, I marvelled at how wonderful one simple, fragile little human being could make me feel. She had conquered what no moron, lunatic or mute could, and she had done it by using trust and respect. With her, for the first time since I’d been ‘woken up,’ I felt at peace with myself and my place in the world. Right here, in this one kiss, in this one moment, was all I needed to remain content for the rest of my life.

The kiss ended. Melody was getting sleepy from all the caressing. I buried my face in my human pillow and prepared to shut down myself, blissfully unaware of what tomorrow would bring.

**  
**  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
